Harley Greenoak's Charge Part 12

"How about to-morrow?"

"Couldn't we make it the day after? Come now, Greenoak. A day more or less can't make any difference."

"Well, no more it can--at this stage," was the enigmatical answer. As a matter of fact, in the speaker's inner mind it was an ambiguous one, "We'll break away the day after."

"Going on, are you?" said old Hesketh, when the announcement was made to him. "Well, I'm sorry. But I suppose our young buffalo hunter's spoiling to get on to bigger game. Where are you trekking for now, Greenoak?"

"The Transkei."

"Ho-ho-ho! You may get on to bigger game there," chuckled the old man, significantly. "Yes, bigger game than ever Slaang Kloof can find you.

Think there's anything in these reports, Greenoak?"

"Never can tell. I happen to know there is a simmer stirring all the border tribes. It'll depend on how the thing's handled."

"If Mr Greenoak has the handling of it, things won't go very wrong, Uncle Eph," interrupted Hazel.

"Now, Miss Brandon, you are either chaffing me or giving me credit for powers of magic which I don't possess," protested the object of this exordium.

"I'm doing neither," replied the girl, confidently.

d.i.c.k Selmes restrained an impulse to look quickly up--they were at table. Of late Hazel seemed never tired of booming Greenoak, he told himself, and now all her talks with himself came up. These, somehow, always led round to Greenoak.

He looked with renewed interest at his guide and mentor. The latter was a splendid fellow, as the girl had more than once declared, but-- elderly; easily old enough to be her father. Now he, d.i.c.k Selmes, had been coming to the conclusion that life apart from Hazel Brandon was going to be a very poor affair.

The propinquity had done it--that, and the bright, sweet charms of the girl herself. He had been realising that the time must come when they would have to part, and now that it had come, why, he would put his fortune to the test. Surely it could have but one issue. They had been so much together, long rides, long rambles, or wandering about among the bush solitudes, and they had always agreed so well. She had always shown such pleasure in his company, surely she would accept it for life.

And then came the discomforting thought that just of late they had not been so much together. That morning, for instance, she had insisted on him going away from her for half the day, while she rambled off with Greenoak. What did it mean? Poor d.i.c.k began to feel very sore, and partly so with Greenoak. Well, he would put matters to the test, and that at once.

But this was not so easy, for the simple reason that he found no opportunity, and did not know how to make one. Hazel was as bright and cordial as ever, but affected to be busy, and there was no means of getting her alone to himself. All the good understanding between them seemed to have evaporated. She was avoiding him--deliberately avoiding him--there could be no doubt about that.

In his soreness and disgust he seized his gun, and started off on foot.

He had not gone far when he heard Greenoak's voice behind him.

"Going alone, d.i.c.k? Better not. You seem hipped; man, and I don't think your own company's good for you."

d.i.c.k's first impulse was to make an ungracious reply, but he conquered it.

"Yes, it is," he said. "Every one's tired of me now, so I didn't want to bore anybody."

"Well, we'll go and lay up at the _draai_ for anything that's moving.

But it's early yet."

It was afternoon, and their departure was fixed for the following morning. d.i.c.k felt desperate.

"Hang it, Greenoak," he burst forth at last. "You don't know how I hate leaving this place. Had such jolly times here."

"How you hate leaving somebody on this place, was what you should have said. Eh, d.i.c.k?"

"Well, yes, if you put it quite so plainly. The worst of it is, I can't get an opportunity of speaking to her alone. Couldn't you manage to make one for me, Greenoak? You can do about everything,"--eagerly.

"Not that. Even if I could I wouldn't. My dear d.i.c.k, I'm responsible to your father; and I won't help in that sort of thing. You've fallen a victim to propinquity, as many another has done before you, and the best thing for you is to go away--as we are going--and see how this--er-- fancy stands the test of time and different surroundings. It is evident that the other party to the difficulty is not in a hurry to clench matters, which shows her sterling sense. No. Try my prescription."

This and other wise doctrines did Greenoak preach, and at last his charge became in some measure reconciled to the plan. Anyway, he was not going to make an a.s.s of himself, he declared.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

FAREWELL.

A man who is "good all round," as the saying goes, in weighty matters, is rarely a fool in dealing with those of minor importance, although he is sometimes. In which connection the advice we just heard Greenoak administer to his charge showed sound judgment and a knowledge of human nature.

"The other party to the difficulty is in no hurry to clinch matters," he had said, and it was no more than the truth. Hazel Brandon was gifted with rather more common-sense than most girls of her age. She and her young companion had been drawn very much together during their sojourn at this isolated farm, and she had grown very fond of him; but what she doubted was whether she had grown fond of him enough. She knew, of course, how matters were trending, and that she had only to hold up a finger. Yet she kept that finger persistently down.

She was in no hurry to engage herself to anybody. There was plenty of time. She was quite young and perfectly happy at home, as incidentally and periodically she would remind a remote cousin who pestered her. But she owned to herself that he was not in the same street with d.i.c.k Selmes. Yet about the latter there was something wanting, something which, much as she liked him, somewhat failed to satisfy her.

Light-heartedness is a valuable gift, but he was too light-hearted; too boyish. He would be the better for some trying experience, she decided, something that would mould his character. Even were she to fall in with the wishes he was seeking opportunity to utter, how could she feel entirely a.s.sured that he knew his own mind? She could not so feel, therefore she cut the knot of the difficulty by taking care to give him no such opportunity.

Then again, what about his belongings--his father, for instance? She knew that his position and prospects were unimpeachable; and would it not be said that she had laid herself out to entrap him? There was a decided hardening of the proud little mouth at the thought. She would have no secret or provisional understanding. If he knew his own mind, he knew where to find her when his travels should be over; in her own home to wit. This would cut both ways, for while suspecting him of not quite knowing his own mind in the matter, Hazel candidly admitted to herself that at this stage she did not know hers. She owned she would miss him dreadfully when he left; but--the point was, would she miss him when she got home again?

That last evening could hardly be p.r.o.nounced a successful experiment in cheerfulness. Not to put too fine a point on it it was unequivocally dismal. Harley Greenoak was, if anything, more sparing of speech than usual, and old Hesketh was tired. Hazel's heroic attempts at brightening up the situation fell flat. d.i.c.k Selmes was gloomy, and inclined to import a note of sentiment into his remarks; and then--his last cable was cut away. He had clung to a hope that he might get Hazel to himself, if only for a few minutes, after the others had retired; but no--she forestalled them, bidding good-night quite unnecessarily early, and before any one else had shown signs of moving.

"Got everything ready, d.i.c.k?" said Greenoak, coming into his room. "We start just after sun-up, you know."

"I wish we started now," was the answer, and the speaker savagely kicked his boots across the floor, to the grave peril of a big tarantula prowling along in the shadow against the dilapidated wainscotting. "I hope there'll be a thundering big war when we get up there. I could take on a good deal of excitement just now."

The other laughed pleasantly. "I know you could, d.i.c.k, but let's hope we'll get some excitement without the war. Well now, pull yourself together. There are plenty of good times sticking out in front of you.

Good-night."

d.i.c.k, left alone, thought what an easy thing it was to give advice. How could an old chap like Greenoak realise what he was going through? he said to himself--losing sight of the possibility of his friend having at one time gone through an exactly similar experience. Ah, well--there was a prospect of excitement ahead--that was one comfort.

Going to the window, he threw up the sash, and the night air, still and cool, penetrated the room. The sky was clear and the stars shone in myriad frosty twinkle, and up from the s.h.a.ggy forest strips which lined the deep kloofs ab.u.t.ting on the great hollow, came the multifold voices of the creatures of the night, winged or four-footed. Under a cold moon the great crags were visible, and as he gazed forth upon the still vastness of Nature, it seemed to d.i.c.k Selmes that every spot on the place carried with it some a.s.sociation. The night reminded him of that similar one down in the Addo, when he had gone forth single-handed to seek adventure--and had found it too, with a vengeance. Since then what an experience had come his way, changing his life completely. Then, chilled by the night air, he closed down the window and turned in.

It seemed hardly five minutes before the entrance of Greenoak told him that it was time to turn out. There was a sharp, raw nip in the air, although the sky was without a cloud, for the sun was not yet up, and d.i.c.k proceeded to dress, hurriedly and s.h.i.+veringly. He felt altogether depressed. He wished he had never heard of South Africa, and then, even upon his youthful understanding, was borne in the certainty that what had overtaken him here would have overtaken him somewhere else.

As he entered the living-room Hazel was there dispensing early coffee.

If only he had the opportunity of being alone with her even now, he thought, but he had not. Already the cart stood inspanned in front of the stoep.

"Well, young buffalo hunter," said old Hesketh, "I shall be sorry to lose you, and if ever you're round this way don't forget to look in and help to liven an old man up. You're always welcome for as long as you like to stay. But it's slow work for a young 'un, to be sure."

"That it isn't, Mr Hesketh," rejoined d.i.c.k, heartily, not a little touched by the kindness and real warmth of his host's words. "I've had a rattling good time here, and enjoyed it as well as I've ever enjoyed anything"--with a meaning glance in the direction of Hazel, to which she, however, utterly failed to respond. But perhaps she made up for it in the frank warmth of her farewell.

"Do come and see us at our place, Mr Selmes, when you have done your travels," she said. "My father will be delighted, I can answer for that, though we can't give you quite such good sport as you've been having here. Still, you will have a hearty welcome."

d.i.c.k mumbled something as he pressed the little hand, longer perhaps than he need have done--and then he had a confused consciousness of climbing to his seat, and in less than no time the homestead at Haakdoornfontein was out of sight.

"Jolly old place," he said regretfully, as he looked back. "Tell you what, Greenoak. I quite hate leaving it."

"I dare say," remarked Greenoak, drily. He was thinking at that moment that his charge was becoming something of a burden. The said charge was thinking of something else, and that "something" evidently something all-engrossing--so much so, that for upwards of an hour he did not utter a word--a very unusual thing indeed for d.i.c.k Selmes.