the days of my life-第12部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


into　a　hole　and　came　to　the　ground；　sending　me　and　my　loaded　gun　on　to　my　head　some　five　or　six　yards　further　on。　I　had　hardly　e　to　my　senses　and　caught　my　horse　when　I　saw　an　oribe　pass　like　a　flash　of　light；　taking　great　bounds。　I　turned　and　went　away　after　him；　and　I　must　say　I　never　had　a　more　exciting　ride　in　my　life。　Away　we　went　like　the　wind；　over　hill　and　down　dale；　and　very　dangerous　work　it　was；　for　being　all　through　long　grass　the　holes　were　hidden。　Every　now　and　then　I　felt　my　horse　give　a　violent　shy　or　a　bound；　and　then　I　knew　we　had　nearly　got　into　some　bottomless　pit；　if　we　had；　going　at　that　rate　the　horse　would　most　likely　have　broken　his　legs　or　I　my　neck。　And　so　on　for　about　two　miles；　I　gaining　very　slowly；　but　still　gaining　on　the　buck；　when　suddenly　down　he　popped　into　a　bush。　It　is　curious　how　rarely　one　does　the　right　thing　at　the　right　time。　If　I　had　done　the　right　thing　I　should　have　got　my　buck　—　but　I　didn’t。　Instead　of　getting　off　and　walking　him　up；　I　sent　one　barrel　into　the　bush　after　him　and　gave　him　the　other　as　he　rose。　By　this　means　I　hit　him　very　hard　but　did　not　kill　him。　However；　I　made　sure　of　him　and　struck　the　spurs　into　my　horse　to　catch　him。　To　my　surprise　he　only　gave　a　jump；　and　I　found　myself　embedded　in　a　bog　whilst　my　wounded　buck　slowly　vanished　over　a　rise。　I　went　back　in　a　sweet　temper；　as　you　may　imagine。
We　also　hunt　with　hounds；　and　get　very　good　runs　sometimes。　I　very　nearly　lost　my　watch　and　chain　in　one　the　other　day。　I　was　tearing　along　at　full　gallop　through　the　long　grass　when　I　thought　I　felt　an　extra　weight　at　the　end　of　my　whip　which　was　resting　on　the　pommel　of　my　saddle。　I　looked　down　and　saw　my　watch　and　chain　hanging　to　it。　It　was　what　one　may　call　a　lucky　escape。　。　。　。　There　is　little　news　here　of　any　sort。　It　is　evidently　thought　in　England　that　Froude　made　a　fiasco　of　his　mission；　but　I　believe　it　was　more　the　fault　of　the　Home　Government　than　his　own。　The　only　other　thing　is　that　some　people　fear　resistance　on　the　part　of　the　Kaffirs　when　the　time　es　for　the　collection　of　the　new　hut　tax；　but　I　don’t　believe　in　it　。　。　。　。
In　a　letter　dated　Easter　Sunday；　1876；　there　are　some　allusions　to　Bishop　Colenso　and　to　the　Zulu　customs　of　the　day　which　may　be　of　interest。
There　is　but　little　news　to　tell；　none　indeed　with　the　exception　of　the　tragedy　I　mentioned　in　my　letter　to　my　father。　Colenso　preached　a　funeral　sermon　on　him　this　morning；　by　far　the　finest　I　ever　heard　him　preach。　He　was　one　of　the　Bishop’s　best　friends；　one　who　had　stood　by　him　when　all　deserted　him。　The　Bishop　quite　broke　down。　I　was　sitting　under　him；　all　the　last　part　of　the　sermon　he　was　literally　sobbing。　It　was　touching　to　see　stern…faced　Colenso；　whom　nothing　can　move；　so　broken。　He　is　a　very　strange　man；　but　one　you　cannot　but　admire；　with　his　intellect　written　on　his　face。　I　dare　say　that　my　father　has　met　him　in　Norfolk；　where　he　was　a　rector；　he　recognized　my　name　the　first　time　I　saw　him。
We　start　for　a　trip　up…country　in　three　days’　time；　we　shall　be　away　until　about　the　22nd。　We　are　going　to　explore　Weenen　or　the　Land　of　Weeping；　so…called　from　the　weeping　of　the　women　and　children　left　alive　after　the　great　massacre　of　the　Dutch。
I　saw　a　curious　sight　the　other　day；　a　witch　dance。　I　cannot　attempt　to　describe　it；　it　is　a　weird　sort　of　thing。
The　Chief　Interpreter　of　the　Colony　told　me　that　he　was　in　Zululand　some　years　ago　and　saw　one　of　these　witch…findings。　“There；”　he　said；　“were　collected　some　five　thousand　armed　warriors　in　a　circle；　in　the　midst　of　which　the　witches　＇I　should　have　said　the　witch…doctors＇　danced。　Everyone　was　livid　with　fear；　and　with　reason；　for　now　and　again　one　of　these　creatures　would　e　crooning　up　to　one　of　them　and　touch　him；　whereupon　he　was　promptly　put　out　of　the　world　by　a　regiment　of　the　king’s　guard。”　My　friend　interfered　and　nearly　had　his　own　neck　broken　for　his　trouble。
The　Chief　Interpreter　alluded　to　must　have　been　my　friend　Fynney；　now　long　dead；　who　was　afterwards　my　colleague　on　the　staff　of　Sir　Theophilus　Shepstone。　From　him　I　gathered　much　information　as　to　Zulu　customs　and　history　ade　use　of　in　“Nada　the　Lily”　and　other　books。　There　the　reader　may　find　a　true　account　of　the　doings　of　these　awful　witch…doctors。　Often　I　have　wondered　whether　they　are　merely　frauds　or　whether　they　do　possess；　at　any　rate　in　certain　instances；　some　share　of　occult　power。　Certainly　I　have　known　them　do　the　strangest　things；　especially　in　the　way　of　discovering　lost　cattle　or　other　property。　On　the　occasion　of　which　I　speak　in　the　letter　I　remember　that　the　doctoress　soon　discovered　an　article　I　thought　was　gone　for　ever。
I　acpanied　Sir　Henry　on　a　tour　he　made　up…country　and　there　saw　a　great　war…dance　which　was　organised　in　his　honour。　I　mention　this　because　the　first　thing　I　ever　wrote　for　publication　was　a　description　of　this　dance。　I　think　that　it　appeared　in　the　Gentleman’s　Magazine。
Among　the　new…found　letters　is　one　that　tells　of　this　war…dance。　It　is　headed　Camp；　Pagate’s　Location；　May　13；　1876。
。　。　。　We　have　since　my　last　letter　home　been　trekking　steadily　on　through　the　country　in　much　the　same　way；　except　that　we　have　left　the　plains　and　entered　the　mountainous　bush…land；　which；　though　the　roads　are　terrible；　is　much　pleasanter　to　travel　through　as　it　is　more　varied。　Also　you　can　make　dives　into　the　bush　in　search　of　a　little　shooting；　though　it　is　very　necessary　to　take　your　bearings　first。　I　neglected　to　do　this　the　other　day；　and　when　I　had　been　off　the　road　five　minutes　I　found　I　was　utterly　unable　to　find　it　again。
When　once　you　have　lost　your　general　direction　you　are　done　for。　I　wandered　on　and　on　till　at　length　I　saw　three　pretty；　rustic…looking　houses　on　a　hill　a　couple　of　miles　off；　for　which　I　was　not　sorry；　for　the　evening　was　very　gloomy　and　a　cold　east　wind　was　driving　down　clouds　and　mists　from　the　hill。　Thither　I　and　my　tired　horse　and　dogs　clambered　as　best　we　could；　now　over　masses　of　boulders；　now　through　deep　water…courses；　till　at　last　we　came　to　the　neighbourhood　of　the　first　house；　just　as　night　was　setting　in。
As　I　approached　I　was　struck　by　the　stillness　of　the　place；　and　drawing　nearer　yet　I　saw　that　brambles　and　thorns　were　mixed　with　the　peaches　and　pomegranates　of　the　garden；　and　that　the　fruit　had　not　been　plucked；　but　eaten　away　by　birds；　then　I　observed　that　the　front　door　had　fallen　from　its　hinges。　I　rode　in　and　found　the　place　a　picture　of　melancholy　desertion。　I　went　on　to　the　next　house　and　found　it　in　the　same　condition；　and　the　next　to　that　also。　I　was　now　pretty　well　done；　but　as　the　prospect　of　sleeping　in　the　bush　or　a　deserted　house　was　not　pleasant　I　determined　to　make　one　more　shot　for　the　road。　As　soon　as　I　had　ridden　over　half　a　mile　it　came　on　to　rain　“cats　and　dogs；”　and　I　got　ducked　through　and　through。　I　turned　to　make　for　the　houses　as　best　I　could　through　the　dark；　feeling　unmonly　cold；　when　suddenly　I　stumbled　upon　a　Kaffir　ing　through　the　bush。　An　angel　could　not　have　been　more　wele。
However　there　was　a　drawback。　I　knew　no　Kaffir；　he　knew　no　English。　Luckily　I　did　know　the　Kaffir　name　of　Mr。　Shepstone　—　“Sompseu”　—　which　is　known　by　every　black　in　South　Africa；　and　managed　to　make　my　friend　understand　that　I　was　travelling　with　the　“Mighty　Hunter；”　also　that　there　were　four　waggons。　Now　he　had　not　seen　these　but　had　heard　that　they　were　in　the　neighbourhood；　so　following　his　unerring　instinct　he　at　once　struck　out　for　the　high　road　from　which　I　had　wandered　some　five　miles。　Arrived　there；　he　managed　by　the　glimmer　of　the　stars　to　find　the　track　of　the　waggons；　and　having　satisfied　himself　that　they　had　passed；　struck　away　again　into　the　most　awful　places　where　anything　but　the　Basuto　pony　I　was　riding　must　have　e　to　grief。
On　we　went　for　about　eight　miles　till　I　began　to　think　my　friend　was　knocking　under　to　the　cold　（a　very　little　cold　kills　them）　and　making　for　his　own　kraal。　However；　to　my　astonishment　he　hit　the　track　again　and　at　length　came　safely　to　the　waggons。　I　was　not　sorry　to　see　them。　I　found　the　Governor　in　a　dreadful　state　of　alarm。
Two　days　ago　we　went　up　to　Pagate’s　kraal。　He　is　a　rather　powerful　chief　under　our　protection；　having　some　fifteen　thousand　people。　It　is　a　very　good　specimen　of　a　chief’s　kraal。　It　stands　on　a　high　promontory　that　juts　out　and　divides　two　enormous　valleys　at　the　bottom　of　one　of　which　runs　the　Mooi　River。　The　view　is　superb；　two　thousand　feet　below　lies　the　plain　encircled　by　tremendous　hills　bush…clad　to　the　very　top；　while　at　the　bottom　flashes　a　streak　of　silver　which　is　the　river。　There　is　little　of　what　we　admire　in　views　in　England；　but　Nature　in　her　wild　and　rugged　grandeur。
His　kraal　is　curious。　In　extent　it　covers　about　ten　acres。　First　there　is　the　outer　fence；　inside　of　which　are　the　huts；　and　then　a　stronger　inner　one　to　hold　the　cattle　in　times　of　danger。　The　chief’s　kraal　is　at　the　top　and　fenced　off。
We　went　into　the　principal　hut　and　partook　of　refreshments　in　the　shape　of　Kaffir　beer。
Next　morning　Pagate　gave　a　war　dance；　which　is　one　of　the　most　strange　and　savage　sights　I　ever　saw。　It　was　not　very　large　as　they　only　had　a　day’s　notice　to　collect　the　warriors；　however　some　five　hundred　turned　up。
The　dance　was　held　in　front　of　our　camp。　First　arrived　a　warrior　herald　dressed　in　his　war…plumage；　ox…tails　round　the　shoulders　and　middle；　a　circlet　of　some　long　white　hair　round　the　right　knee；　a　circlet　round　the　head　from　which　arose　a　solitary　plume　of　the　Kaffir　crane；　in　one　hand　the　large　white　ox…hide　shield　and　in　the　other　his　assegais；　which　however　were　represented　by　long　sticks；　assegais　not　being　allowed　at　these　affairs。
This　gentleman　was　acpanied　by　a　little　old　woman　who　rushed　about　shrieking　like　a　wild　thing。　He　sang　the　praises　of　his　chief。
“Pagate！　Pagate　is　ing！　Pagate　the　son　of　——　who　did　——；　the　son　of　——　who　did　——；”　and　so　on　through　some　scores　of　generations。
“Pagate’s　soldiers　are　ing！　Pagate’s　soldiers　who　drink　the　blood　of　their　enemies；　who　know　how　to　kill！　Pheasants　for　whom　no　other　pheasant　ever　scratched”　（i。e。　who　could　look　after　themselves）；　and　so　on。
Then　he　retired。　Presently　the　warriors　arrived　in　panies　singing　a　sort　of　solemn　chant。　Eac