Now I was hammering upon the back door of the house, which I could not open. After a pause that seemed long, a window was thrown wide, and a voice—it was Marie’s—asked in frightened tones who was there.
“I, Allan Quatermain,” I answered. “Open at once, Marie. You are in great danger; the Red Kaffirs are going to attack the house.”
She flew to the door in her nightdress, and at length I was in the place.
“Thank God! you are still safe,” I gasped. “Put on your clothes while I call Leblanc. No, stay, do you call him; I must wait here for Hans and your slaves.”
Away she sped without a word, and presently Hans arrived, bringing with him eight frightened men, who as yet scarcely knew whether they slept or woke.
“Is that all?” I asked. “Then bar the door and follow me to the _sitkammer_, where the baas keeps his guns.”
Just as we reached it, Leblanc entered, clad in his shirt and trousers, and was followed presently by Marie with a candle.
I took the candle from Marie’s hand, and set it on the floor close to the wall, lest it should prove a target for an assegai or a bullet. Even in those days the Kaffirs had a few firearms, for the most part captured or stolen from white men. Then in a few words I told them all.
“And when did you learn all this?” asked Leblanc in French.
“At the Mission Station a little more than half an hour ago,” I answered, looking at my watch.
“At the station a little more than half an hour ago! _Peste!_ it is not possible. You dream or are drunken,” he cried excitedly.
“All right, monsieur, we will argue afterwards,” I answered. “Meanwhile the Kaffirs are here, for I rode through them; and if you want to save your life, stop talking and act. Marie, how many guns are there?”
“Four,” she answered, “of my father’s; two _roers_ and two smaller ones.”
“And how many of these men”—and I pointed to the Kaffirs—“can shoot?”
“Good,” I said. “Let them load the guns with _loopers_”—that is, slugs, not bullets—“and let the rest stand in the passage with their assegais, in case the Quabies should try to force the back door.”
Now, in this house there were in all but six windows, one to each sitting-room, one to each of the larger bedrooms, these four opening on to the veranda, and one at either end of the house, to give light and air to the two small bedrooms, which were approached through the larger bedrooms. At the back, fortunately, there were no windows, for the stead was but one room deep with a passage running from the front to the back door, a distance of little over fifteen feet.