Allan's Wife Page 7

  I woke with a feeling as though the blessed rain were falling on my faceand head. Slowly, and with great difficulty, I opened my eyes, then shutthem again, having seen a vision. For a space I lay thus, while the raincontinued to fall; I saw now that I must be asleep, or off my head withthirst and fever. If I were not off my head how came I to imagine that alovely dark-eyed girl was bending over me sprinkling water on my face? Awhite girl, too, not a Kaffir woman. However, the dream went on.

  "Hendrika," said a voice in English, the sweetest voice that I had everheard; somehow it reminded me of wind whispering in the trees at night."Hendrika, I fear he dies; there is a flask of brandy in my saddle-bag;get it."

  "Ah! ah!" grunted a harsh voice in answer; "let him die, Miss Stella. Hewill bring you bad luck--let him die, I say." I felt a movement of airabove me as though the woman of my vision turned swiftly, and once againI opened my eyes. She had risen, this dream woman. Now I saw that shewas tall and graceful as a reed. She was angry, too; her dark eyesflashed, and she pointed with her hand at a female who stood before her,dressed in nondescript kind of clothes such as might be worn by eithera man or a woman. The woman was young, of white blood, very short, withbowed legs and enormous shoulders. In face she was not bad-looking,but the brow receded, the chin and ears were prominent--in short, shereminded me of nothing so much as a very handsome monkey. She might havebeen the missing link.

  The lady was pointing at her with her hand. "How dare you?" she said."Are you going to disobey me again? Have you forgotten what I told you,Babyan?"[*]

  [*] Baboon.

  "Ah! ah!" grunted the woman, who seemed literally to curl and shrivel upbeneath her anger. "Don't be angry with me, Miss Stella, because I can'tbear it. I only said it because it was true. I will fetch the brandy."

  Then, dream or no dream, I determined to speak.

  "Not brandy," I gasped in English as well as my swollen tongue wouldallow; "give me water."

  "Ah, he lives!" cried the beautiful girl, "and he talks English. See,sir, here is water in your own bottle; you were quite close to a spring,it is on the other side of the tree."

  I struggled to a sitting position, lifted the bottle to my lips, anddrank from it. Oh! that drink of cool, pure water! never had I tastedanything so delicious. With the first gulp I felt life flow back intome. But wisely enough she would not let me have much. "No more! nomore!" she said, and dragged the bottle from me almost by force.

  "The child," I said--"is the child dead?"

  "I do not know yet," she answered. "We have only just found you, and Itried to revive you first."

  I turned and crept to where Tota lay by the side of Indaba-zimbi. Itwas impossible to say if they were dead or swooning. The lady sprinkledTota's face with the water, which I watched greedily, for my thirstwas still awful, while the woman Hendrika did the same office forIndaba-zimbi. Presently, to my vast delight, Tota opened her eyes andtried to cry, but could not, poor little thing, because her tongue andlips were so swollen. But the lady got some water into her mouth, and,as in my case, the effect was magical. We allowed her to drink about aquarter of a pint, and no more, though she cried bitterly for it. Justthen old Indaba-zimbi came to with a groan. He opened his eyes, glancedround, and took in the situation.

  "What did I tell you, Macumazahn?" he gasped, and seizing the bottle, hetook a long pull at it.

  Meanwhile I sat with my back against the trunk of the great tree andtried to realize the situation. Looking to my left I saw too goodhorses--one bare-backed, and one with a rudely made lady's saddle onit. By the side of the horses were two dogs, of a stout greyhound breed,that sat watching us, and near the dogs lay a dead Oribe buck, whichthey had evidently been coursing.

  "Hendrika," said the lady presently, "they must not eat meat just yet.Go look up the tree and see if there is any ripe fruit on it."

  The woman ran swiftly into the plain and obeyed. Presently she returned."I see some ripe fruit," she said, "but it is high, quite at the top."

  "Fetch it," said the lady.

  "Easier said than done," I thought to myself; but I was much mistaken.Suddenly the woman bounded at least three feet into the air and caughtone of the spreading boughs in her large flat hands; then came a swingthat would have filled an acrobat with envy--and she was on it.

  "Now there is an end," I thought again, for the next bough was beyondher reach. But again I was mistaken. She stood up on the bough, grippingit with her bare feet, and once more sprang at the one above, caught itand swung herself into it.

  I suppose that the lady saw my expression of astonishment. "Do notwonder, sir," she said, "Hendrika is not like other people. She will notfall."

  I made no answer, but watched the progress of this extraordinary personwith the most breathless interest. On she went, swinging herself frombough to bough, and running along them like a monkey. At last shereached the top, and began to swarm up a thin branch towards the ripefruit. When she was near enough she shook the branch violently. Therewas a crack--a crash--it broke. I shut my eyes, expecting to see hercrushed on the ground before me.

  "Don't be afraid," said the lady again, laughing gently. "Look, she isquite safe."

  I looked, and so she was. She had caught a bough as she fell, clung toit, and was now calmly dropping to another. Old Indaba-zimbi had alsowatched this performance with interest, but it did not seem to astonishhim over-much. "Baboon-woman?" he said, as though such people werecommon, and then turned his attention to soothing Tota, who was moaningfor more water. Meanwhile Hendrika came down the tree with extraordinaryrapidity, and swinging by one hand from a bough, dropped about eightfeet to the ground.

  In another two minutes we were all three sucking the pulpy fruit. Inan ordinary way we should have found it tasteless enough: as it was Ithought it the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. After three daysspent without food or water, in the desert, one is not particular. Whilewe were still eating the fruit, the lady of my vision set her companionto work to partially flay the oribe which her dogs had killed, andbusied herself in making a fire of fallen boughs. As soon as it burnedbrightly she took strips of the oribe flesh, toasted them, and gave themto us on leaves. We ate, and now were allowed a little more water. Afterthat she took Tota to the spring and washed her, which she sadly needed,poor child! Next came our turn to wash, and oh, the joy of it!

  I came back to the tree, walking painfully, indeed, but a changed man.There sat the beautiful girl with Tota on her knees. She was lulling herto sleep, and held up her finger to me enjoining silence. At last thechild went off into a sound natural slumber--an example that I shouldhave been glad to follow had it not been for my burning curiosity. ThenI spoke.

  "May I ask what your name is?" I said.

  "Stella," she answered.

  "Stella what?" I said.

  "Stella nothing," she answered, in some pique; "Stella is my name; it isshort and easy to remember at any rate. My father's name is Thomas, andwe live up there," and she pointed round the base of the great peak. Ilooked at her astonished. "Have you lived there long?" I asked.

  "Ever since I was seven years old. We came there in a waggon. Beforethat we came from England--from Oxfordshire; I can show you the place ona big map. It is called Garsingham."

  Again I thought I must be dreaming. "Do you know, Miss Stella," I said,"it is very strange--so strange that it almost seems as though it couldnot be true--but I also came from Garsingham in Oxfordshire many yearsago."

  She started up. "Are you an English gentleman?" she said. "Ah, I havealways longed to see an English gentleman. I have never seen but oneEnglishman since we lived here, and he certainly was not a gentleman--nowhite people at all, indeed, except a few wandering Boers. We live amongblack people and baboons--only I have read about English people--lots ofbooks--poetry and novels. But tell me what is your name? Macumazahn theblack man called you, but you must have a white name, too."

  "My name is Allan Quatermain," I said.

  Her face turned quite white, her rosy lips parted,
and she looked at mewildly with her beautiful dark eyes.

  "It is wonderful," she said, "but I have often heard that name. Myfather has told me how a little boy called Allan Quatermain once savedmy life by putting out my dress when it was on fire--see!"--and shepointed to a faint red mark upon her neck--"here is the scar of theburn."

  "I remember it," I said. "You were dressed up as Father Christmas. Itwas I who put out the fire; my wrists were burnt in doing so."

  Then for a space we sat silent, looking at each other, while Stellaslowly fanned herself with her wide felt hat, in which some whiteostrich plumes were fixed.

  "This is God's doing," she said at last. "You saved my life when I wasa child; now I have saved yours and the little girl's. Is she your owndaughter?" she added, quickly.

  "No," I answered; "I will tell you the tale presently."

  "Yes," she said, "you shall tell me as we go home. It is time to bestarting home, it will take us three hours to get there. Hendrika,Hendrika, bring the horses here!"