Читать книгу In the Whirl of the Rising - Mitford Bertram - Страница 6

In crediting his unwelcome guest with a desire to ‘take over the whole show,’ Lamont was stating no more than was warranted by fact. For Ancram had made himself rather more than very much at home, to such an extent indeed that he might have been the owner of the place. Further, he had adopted a kind of elder-brotherly tone towards Lamont, and a patronising one towards Peters: and of this, and of him altogether, small wonder that both men were already thoroughly sick. Moreover, he showed not the slightest symptom of moving on.

As a sacrifice on the sacred altar of hospitality Lamont had conscientiously striven to conceal his dislike for the man, had even gone out of the way in order to make time pass pleasantly for him, in pursuance of which idea he had stood from him what he would have stood from nobody else. All of which Ancram put down to a wrong motive, and made himself more objectionable still.

“What are your plans, Ancram?” said Lamont, the day after the foregoing conversation.

“Oh, my dear fellow, it’s so jolly here with you I hadn’t begun to think of any.”

Lamont’s face was stony grim in its effort to repress a frown.

“It brings back dear old Courtland,” went on Ancram, watching his host narrowly. “Now you don’t knock up against anyone who knows Courtland too, every day out here, Lamont?”

“No. I don’t know that that’s any loss, by the way.”

“Not? Now I should have thought – er – that for old acquaintance’ sake you’d – er – but then – er – I was forgetting. What a fool I am.”

He little suspected how cordially his listener was agreeing.

“You see, it’s this way, Lamont. I came out here to see what I could do in the gold digging or farming line, or something of that sort. What could I?”

“Do you want a candid opinion, Ancram?”

“Yes. What could I?”

“Nothing.”

The other stared, then laughed unpleasantly.

“You left your things at Pagadi,” went on Lamont. “My advice is get back to Fagadi, pick up your traps – thence, to England.”

The other laughed again, still more unpleasantly.

“Meaning that you want me out of the country,” he said.

It was Lamont’s turn to stare.

“I’m very dense,” he said, “but for the life of me I can’t see what the devil interest your being in the country or out of it can have for me.”

“We were at Courtland together,” rejoined Ancram meaningly.

“A remarkable coincidence no doubt. Still – it doesn’t explain anything.”

“I thought perhaps you might find it awkward – er – anyone being here who was – er – there at that time.”

“Then like many another you have proved ‘thought’ a desperately unreliable prompter. Candidly, my dear fellow, since you put it that way, I don’t care a twopenny damn whether you are in this country or in any other. Now?”

Lamont spoke quickly and was fast losing his temper. He pulled himself up with a sort of gulping effort. Ancram, noting this, could hardly suppress the sneer which rose to his face, for he read it entirely wrong.

“That fetched him,” he was thinking to himself. “He’s funking now. He’s probably got another girl out here, and he’s afraid I’ll blab about the white feather business. All right, my good friend Lamont. I’ve got you under my thumb, as I intended, and you’ll have to put me in the way of something good – or – that little story will come in handy. It’ll bear some touching up, too.”

“I was speaking in your own interest, Ancram,” went on Lamont. “Anyone can see with half an eye that you’re not in the least cut out for life in this country, and you’d only be throwing away your time and money.”

“Wish I’d got some to throw. I thought perhaps I might stop and do a little farming with you.”

“But farming needs some capital. You can’t do it on nothing. It’s a losing game even then, especially now that rinderpest is clearing us all out. Don’t you know any people in Buluwayo who could put you into the way of getting some job under Government, or in the mining department or something?”

“Not a soul. Wish I did. But, I say, Lamont, why are you so jolly certain I’m no good for this country? I haven’t had a show yet.”

“Oh, I can see. For one thing, if you start pounding the niggers about, like you did Zingela yesterday, you’ll get an assegai through you.”

It came to him as an inspiration, in pursuance of their plan of the previous day. And Ancram was green.

“No! Are they such revengeful devils as all that?”

“Well, they don’t like being bashed, any more than other people. And – a savage is always a savage.”

“By Jove! What d’you think, Lamont? Supposing I gave this chap something? Would that make it all right? Eh?”

“Then he’d think you were afraid of him.”

And to Lamont, who knew that the gift of a piece of tobacco and a sixpence would cause honest Zingela positively to beam upon his assailant of yesterday, the situation was too funny. But he wanted to get rid of the other, and the opportunity seemed too good to be lost. The scare had begun.

“You have got a jolly place here, Lamont, and you don’t seem overworked either, by Jove!” went on Ancram, with more than a dash of envy in his tone, as he gazed forth over the sunlit landscape, dotted with patches of bush, stretching away to the dark line of forest beyond, for the two men were seated in front of the house, beneath the extension of the roof which formed a rough verandah.

“Yes. You were talking of Courtland – well, I’m nearly as big a landowner here as the old Squire. Funny, isn’t it? As for being overworked, that comes by fits and starts. Just now there’s nothing much to do but shoot and bury your infected cattle, and watch the remainder die of drought.”

“Phew! I can’t think how you fellows can smoke such stuff as that,” said Ancram disgustedly, as the other started a fresh pipe of Magaliesburg. “The very whiff of it is enough to make one sick.”

“Sorry; you must get used to it though, if you’re going to stop in the country,” rejoined Lamont, unconcernedly blowing out great clouds. “Have another drink? The whiff of that doesn’t make you sick, eh?”

“You’re right there, old chap,” laughed Ancram. “This is a deuced thirsty country of yours, Lamont, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Oh dear, no! Never mind me. It’s all that, even when there isn’t a drought on.”

“Now I could understand a fellow like Peters smoking that stuff,” said Ancram, going back to the question of the tobacco. “But you, who’ve had an opportunity of knowing better – that’s a thing I can hardly take in. By the way, Lamont, while on the subject of Peters, I think he’s too beastly familiar and patronising altogether.”

“Patronising – ’m – yes.”

If Ancram perceived the crispness of the tone, the snap in his host’s eyes, he, thinking the latter was afraid of him, enjoyed being provocative all the more.

“Yes. For instance, I think it infernal cheek a fellow of that sort calling us by our names – without any mister or anything. And the chummy way in which he’s always talking to me. It’s a little too thick. A common chap like that – who murders the Queen’s English. No; I’m getting damn tired of Peters.”

“Quite sure Peters isn’t getting damn tired of you?”

“Eh? Oh come, I say, Lamont! You’re always getting at a fellow, you know.”

Lamont was inwardly raging. He had exaggerated ideas of the obligations of hospitality, and this fellow was his guest – an uninvited one certainly, but still his guest. And he – could he control himself much longer?

“I told you you weren’t in the least cut out for life in this country, Ancram,” he said at last, striving to speak evenly. “For instance, according to its customs even the blasphemy of Peters daring to call you by your name doesn’t justify you in abusing a man who has saved your life; for if it hadn’t been for him you’d be a well-gnawed skeleton in the mopani belt down the Pagadi road this very moment. Wait a bit,” – as the other was about to interrupt. “It may surprise you to hear it – they call this a land of surprises – but there’s no man alive for whom I have a greater regard than I have for Peters. He’s my friend – my friend, you understand – and if you’re so tired of him I can only think of one remedy. I can lend you a horse and a boy to show you the way. There’s a hotel at Gandela. The accommodation there is indifferent, but at any rate you won’t be tired by Peters.”

It was out at last. Ancram had gone too far. Would he take him at his word? thought Lamont, hoping in the affirmative. But before the other could reply one way or the other there was a trampling of hoofs, and a man on horseback came round the corner of the house.

“Hallo, Driffield! Where have you dropped from?” cried Lamont, greeting the new-comer cordially.

“Home. I’m off on a small patrol. Thought, as it was near dinner-time, I’d sponge on you, Lamont. Where’s Peters?”

“Up at his camp. He never comes down till evening. Er – Ancram. This is Driffield, our Native Commissioner. What he don’t know about the guileless savage isn’t worth knowing.”

“Glad to meet you,” said that official as they shook hands. “You needn’t take in everything Lamont says, all the same,” he laughed. “I say, Lamont, it’s a pity Peters isn’t here. I’m always missing the old chap.”

“I’ll send up for him, and he’ll be here in half an hour or so. I’ll see to your horse and start Zingela off at once. But – first of all have a drink. We won’t get dinner for half an hour yet.”

“Thanks, I will,” laughed the new arrival. “Thirsty country this, eh, Mr – ?”

“Ancram,” supplied that worthy. “Thirsty? I believe you. We were talking of that very thing just before you came.”

Two things had struck Ancram – the frank cordiality that seemed to be the predominant note among these dwellers in the wilderness, and that his own opinion of Peters was by no means shared by others. There he had made a faux pas. But he did not intend to take Lamont at his word, all the same; wherefore it was just as well that this new arrival had appeared on the scene when he had.

“What’ll you have, Driffield?” said Lamont, as the four sat down to table a little later – Peters having arrived. “’Tisn’t Hobson’s choice this time – it’s guinea-fowl or goat ribs.”

“The last. They look young. I’ll get enough game on patrol.”

“Going to look in at Zwabeka’s kraal, Driffield?” said Peters presently.

“If I do it’ll be on the way back. I’ve got to meet Ames to-morrow evening at the Umgwane Drift, and settle which the devil of us Tolozi is under. Half his people are in Sikumbutana. Ames is quite welcome to him for me.”

“Nice fellow, Ames,” said Peters.

“Rather. One of the best we’ve got, and one of the smartest. He’s got a ticklish district, too, with the whole of Madula’s and half Zazwe’s people in it. Hard luck to saddle him with Tolozi into the bargain. Yes, Ames is a ripping good chap. Been long in this country, Mr Ancram?”

“Er – no. I’ve only just come.”

“Peters picked him up in the mopani veldt, down Pagadi way, and brought him on,” said Lamont. “He was nearly dead of thirst.”

“And something else” is how the whimsical look which puckered the quaint countenance of Peters might have been interpreted. Driffield whistled.

“You were in luck’s way, Mr Ancram,” he said. “That’s an awful bit of country. More than one man has gone missing there and never been heard of again.” And the whimsicality of Peters’ look was enhanced.

“I suppose you haven’t seen much of the country then?” went on Driffield. “I wonder if you’d care to come along with me now. I could show you a pretty wild slice of it, and any number of Matabele at home, into the bargain.”

“There’s your chance, Ancram,” cried Peters. “By Jove! there’s your chance.”

“I should like it. But – er – is it safe?” replied Ancram, bearing in mind Lamont’s remarks the night of his arrival. Driffield stared, then choked down his efforts not to splutter.

“Safe?” he said. “Well, I’ve got a life to lose, and so has Ames. And we neither of us expect to lose it just yet.”

“Yes; I’d like to come, but – I’ve no horse.”

“Daresay I can lend you one,” said Lamont. “You’ll want a couple of blankets too. How are your donkeys loaded, Driffield?”

“Lightly loaded, so that won’t be in the way. Very well, then. Can you be ready in an hour’s time?”

“Oh, there’s no such hurry, Driffield,” urged Peters. “Now you’ve lugged me away from my millionaire factory, you must make it worth while, and let’s have time for a smoke and a yarn.”

The Native Commissioner agreed to start an hour later; and then there was much chaff at Peters’ expense in his prospecting operations. Then Driffield said —

“You’ll be coming over to the race meeting at Gandela, I suppose, Lamont?”

“Don’t know. When is it?”

“End of week after next.”

“I don’t care much for race meetings.”

“Oh, but there’ll be a regular gymkhana – tent-pegging and all sorts of fun. Oh, and Miss Vidal says you are to be sure and turn up.”

“Oh, get out with you, Driffield, and take that yarn somewhere else.”

“It’s a solemn fact, Lamont. She was booming you no end the other day – saying what a devil of a chap you were, and all that sort of thing. I asked her if I should tell you to roll up at the race meeting, and she answered in that candid, innocent way of hers ‘Of course.’ You can’t stay away after that. Can he, Peters?”

“Not much.”

“Oh well, I’ll go then.”

“You’re in luck’s way, Lamont. Miss Vidal’s far and away the nicest girl anywhere round here.”

“She’s all that, I allow.” But a subtle note in the tone was not lost upon one – and that one Ancram.

“So there is a girl in the case!” pronounced that worthy to himself. “I thought there would be. And he would have cleared me out? Not yet, friend Lamont. Not yet! Not until I’ve turned you to real good, material use.” And he now congratulated himself upon the Native Commissioner’s invitation to join his expedition, for in the course of the same he would contrive to pump that official on the subject of Lamont and his circumstances and standing in the locality, in such wise that it would be hard if he could not turn the knowledge to the account of his own especial advantage.