2. FLAMES IN THE KALAHARI

Chapter 1

MASKED RIDERS

Helm du Plessis, a prominent frontier farmer from the North Western Province, sat calmly in the saddle and looked calmly and gratefully at his large herd of cattle that stretched out in the grey bush clearing. This herd of cattle represented many days, many weeks and many years of patient work and attentiveness. Helm du Plessis had farmed for a long time and in difficult circumstances to gather this herd that he was now driving to the market of Kimberley. These were beautiful oxen. Big and well-fed. Six hundred of them. If he could get fifteen or twenty pounds a piece for them now, it would be a whole lot of money.

Helm was in the middle behind the herd. On the flanks, they were touched by his two farmhands, Windvoël and Danster. He turned in the saddle and looked back at where the white tent of the ox-wagon was appearing on the horizon. It gladdened his heart when he saw the white tent. The ox-wagon was driven by his cheerful and courageous daughter, Ansie. Ansie was the apple of his eye, and he had been terribly attached to her since he lost his wife two years ago. The child was willing to stay with him in the wilderness and care for him. He was determined that, after they returned from Kimberley, he would build a neat house for them, buy Ansie a few nice dresses and also purchase a few amenities that would make life more interesting for the child. The grey bush clearing was slowly narrowing here until it almost became a stream where it stretched a short distance ahead between two high rocky outcrops to a large valley where the frontier village, Kameeldraai, was situated. Helm planned to travel to Kameeldraai tonight and spend the night there. He did not want to drive his oxen too fast, because he wanted them to arrive in good condition in Kimberley.

It was when he looked up at the gateway between the two rocky outcrops that Helm, a big, burly fellow, pulled his felt hat deeper over his eyes and frowned. He immediately pulled his horse in, stopped and stared attentively ahead of him. Something must have startled the oxen. At the forefront, a cloud of dust was rising and the foremost animals were not only stopped, but began to turn around and bunch together.

It’s strange, thought Helm. What could have startled the animals? He doubted that it was a lion, because the lions along here had already been hunted well.

Helm got a peculiar sensation when he saw two riders slipping through the grey bush far at the front of his cattle. Now he understood what was going on. His cattle were being blocked by those riders and driven back diagonally.

He was just about to nudge his horse with his heels to gallop closer and go see who was being so presumptuous when he saw two more riders coming up here to the left of him.

Helm immediately pulled away and rode towards the two riders who were coming up with the clearing. They were riding at a fast gallop. Apparently, they had also noticed him, because they were galloping straight towards him.

Helm looked again at the forefront of his herd of cattle, and he could not make sense of it at all. The foremost cattle were being turned around with determination and driven back diagonally, almost out of the direction from which they were now coming.

“Now what the heck is going on,” Helm asked aloud.

The two strangers who had come up with the clearing stopped here by him, and Helm became aware of something he had not noticed until now.

The faces of the two men were not visible. Only the upper parts of their noses and their eyes were visible. The lower parts of their faces were covered by two black cloths that were tied over them.

They rode two big, strong horses, well-fed and with coats that shone. They sat in large military saddles. On either side of each saddle was a rifle tucked into rifle sheaths. Around their waists, each had a bandolier from which a pistol hung.

Even before Helm could ask what was going on here, that his cattle were being blocked, one of the strangers spoke. He was