Adventure Magazine Cover — page 149: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

They Always Run True to Form M’ Lungu. trict.” Instantly the graybeard was alert. “Take one man, M’Poine, and hurry to cut them off and hold them. If we all go together we may scare them. We will fol- low slowly.” With a gesture to the man next him the Kaffir moved off. “Now we shall know who has passed, M’ Lungu.” They are natives of the dis- THE seven Kaffirs, clothed only in the monkey or leopard skin mouchis a4 round .their loins and their armlets and leglets, squatted on their haunches, in am open space round M’Poine. Their hunt- ing assagais with their foot-long barbed points—barbed to twist into the skin of hapless hare or porcupine hiding in the rocks and pull it out—stood a full two yards above them. ““Sauka bona, izindoda,’ M’Poine greeted pleasantly. In absolute silence the natives stared stolidly at him. “ Sauka bona, izindoda,”’ M’Poine repeated ingratiatingly. ‘Ou poumungapi? Where d’you come from?” Without a sign of understanding the Kaffirs sat stonily on. For a moment the face of M’Poine took on an expression of bewilderment, then sud- denly he broke to a comprehending smile. -These couldn’t be Matabele, they must be Makalakas. Smilingly he addressed them in Makalaka. The natives glumly kept their eyes on him and didn’t utter a sound. In Sechuana, in pure Zulu, in Mashan- gaan he tried them. Never a glimpse or glimmer of intelligence. Desperately M’Poine searched round in his mind for assistance. His face lit up. Laughing he approached them in Dutch. No reply or attempt at reply. M’Poine dismounted and grimly squatted before the semicircle of natives. Labori- ously with hands and facial expression he strove to speak by sign language. Mim- icked and muttered and gesticulated. The face of one of the seven brightened. Nod- ding vigorously he jabbered away in a tor- rent, then came to sign language himself. With detailed illustration M’Poine made him understand “Had he seen any wagons lately?” And the Kaffir nodded assent. “How many were there?” And the Kaffir’s fingers said, “Two.” “Were they white men’s wagons? And how many white men?”’ The Kaffir’s head said, ‘“Yes’”—his fin- gers, “Three.” ‘How far away were they, and going in what direction?” Willingly the Kaffir struggled to explain, and pointed. With hand raised M’Poine pointed to the sun, then to the horizons east and west. “How many days ago?” A sound of footfalls struck on the ears of the squatting men, the sound of horses at a trot. The sound came nearer, nearer. Quietly Frank and Bertie turned a corner of a mountain of bush and rode out through the shoulder-high grass, behind them in single file three Kaffrs. The white men’s horses left the grass and entered the open. The horses of the Kaffirs stepped out of the grass and stood beside them. “How many days ago?”’ M’Poine repeated with waving hand. Uneasily the Kaffirs rose to their feet and nervously made to move off. ‘“‘Hold them, M’Poine. _ What’s the mat- ter? Can’t they speak Matabele?’”’ the graybeard inquired anxiously. “No, M’Lungu. They can’t speak any tongue that I know.” “Darned nuisance. But hold them. Per- haps I can get something out of them with a bit of tobacco. Bit of a bonzela.” He dismounted and began searching a saddle-bag. ‘“‘Ah, here it is,” ‘the graybeard went on more happily, and he approached the natives with a small roll of tobacco in his ° hand. The apparent leader stood out before him and stared at him with distrust- ful eyes. Quietly the graybeard cut half a yard of the twist and handed it over; sul- lenly the Kaffir took it. “What tongue do you speak?” the gray- beard asked in Matabele. “Matabele, M’Lungu,” the Kaffir, off his guard, answered quite innocently. With a victorious grin the graybeard turned to M’Poine. “‘They were fooling you, M’Poine. Afraid - of you. Now we'll get all the information we want.” Slt the graybeard turned again to the : Gomichooks ‘com,