Then I saw what caused the sound. A tattered, blackened, bearded man stood at the head of a long and shallow hole saying a prayer.
It was Henri Marais, although at the time I did not recognise him, so changed was he. A number of little mounds to the right and left of him told me, however, that the hole was a grave. As I watched two more men appeared, dragging between them the body of a woman, which evidently they had not strength to carry, as its legs trailed upon the ground.
From the shape of the corpse it seemed to be that of a tall young woman, but the features I could not see, because it was being dragged face downwards. Also the long hair hanging from the head hid them. It was dark hair, like Marie's. They reached the grave, and tumbled their sad burden into it; but I--I could not stir!
At length my limbs obeyed my will. I went forward to the men and said in a hollow voice in Dutch:
"Whom do you bury?"
"Johanna Meyer," answered someone mechanically, for they did not seem to have taken the trouble to look at me. As I listened to those words my heart, which had stood still waiting for the answer, beat again with a sudden bound that I could hear in the silence.
I looked up. There, advancing from the doorway of one of the houses, very slowly, as though overpowered by weakness, and leading by the hand a mere skeleton of a child, who was chewing some leaves, I saw--I saw _Marie Marais!_ She was wasted to nothing, but I could not mistake her eyes, those great soft eyes that had grown so unnaturally large in the white, thin face.
She too saw me and stared for one moment. Then, loosing the child, she cast up her hands, through which the sunlight shone as through parchment, and slowly sank to the ground.
"She has gone, too," said one of the men in an indifferent voice. "I thought she would not last another day."
Now for the first time the man at the head of the grave turned. Lifting his hand, he pointed to me, whereon the other two men turned also.
"God above us!" he said in a choked voice, "at last I am quite mad.
Look! there stands the spook of young Allan, the son of the English predicant who lived near Cradock."
As soon as I heard the voice I knew the speaker.
"Oh, Mynheer Marais!" I cried, "I am no ghost, I am Allan himself come to save you."
Marais made no answer; he seemed bewildered. But one of the men cried out crazily:
"How can you save us, youngster, unless you are ready to be eaten?
Don't you see, we starve, we starve!"
"I have wagons and food," I answered.
"Allemachte! Henri," exclaimed the man, with a wild laugh, "do you hear what your English spook says? He says that he has wagons and _food, food, food!_"
Then Marais burst into tears and flung himself upon my breast, nearly knocking me down. I wrenched myself free of him and ran to Marie, who was lying face upwards on the ground. She seemed to hear my step, for her eyes opened and she struggled to a sitting posture.
"Is it really you, Allan, or do I dream?" she murmured.
"It is I, it is I," I answered, lifting her to her feet, for she seemed to weigh no more than a child. Her head fell upon my shoulder, and she too began to weep.
Still holding her, I turned to the men and said:
"Why do you starve when there, is game all about?" and I pointed to two fat elands strolling among the trees not more than a hundred and fifty yards away.
"Can we kill game with stones?" asked one of them, "we whose powder was all burnt a month ago. Those buck," he added, with a wild laugh, "come here to mock us every morning; but they will not walk into our pitfalls.
They know them too well, and we have no strength to dig others."
Now when I left my wagons I had brought with me that same Purdey rifle with which I had shot the geese in the match against Pereira, choosing it because it was so light to carry. I held up my hand for silence, set Marie gently on the ground, and began to steal towards the elands.
Taking what shelter I could, I got within a hundred yards of them, when suddenly they took alarm, being frightened, in fact, by my two Zulu servants, who were now arriving.
Off they galloped, the big bull leading, and vanished behind some trees.
I saw their line, and that they would appear again between two clumps of bush about two hundred and fifty yards away. Hastily I raised the full sight on the rifle, which was marked for two hundred yards, lifted it, and waited, praying to God as I did so that my skill might not fail me.
The bull appeared, its head held forward, its long horns lying flat upon the back. The shot was very long, and the beast very large to bring down with so small a bullet. I aimed right forward--clear of it, indeed--high too, in a line with its backbone, and pressed the trigger.
The rifle exploded, the bullet clapped, and the buck sprang forward faster than ever. I had failed! But what was this? Suddenly the great bull swung round and began to gallop towards us. When it was not more than fifty yards away, it fell in a heap, rolled twice over like a shot rabbit, and lay still. That bullet was in its heart.
The two Kaffirs appeared breathless and streaming with perspiration.
"Cut meat from the eland's flank; don't stop to skin it," I said in my broken Zulu, helping the words out with signs.
They understood, and a minute later were at work with their assegais.
Then I looked about me. Near by lay a store of dead branches placed there for fuel.
"Have you fire?" I asked of the skeleton Boers, for they were nothing more.
"Nein, nein," they answered; "our fire is dead."
I produced the tinder-box which I carried with me, and struck the flint.
Ten minutes later we had a cheerful blaze, and within three-quarters of an hour good soup, for iron pots were not wanting--only food to put into them. I think that for the rest of that day those poor creatures did little else but eat, sleeping between their meals. Oh! the joy I had in feeding them, especially after the wagons arrived, bringing with them salt--how they longed for that salt!--sugar and coffee.
