A Dash from Diamond City Part 42

The Boer grunted and proceeded to refill his pipe, while the two young men went out and across to the rough shelter, where they found their ponies looking evidently the better for a good feed, and the Kaffir grinning and ready to pat their plumped-out figures, the ponies taking the touch of his hand as a friendly caress.

"Eat a big lot," said the Kaffir, in the Boer tongue. "Ah, like this,"

and he held a native basket for their inspection, at the bottom of which was a specimen of the corn with which the ponies had been fed.

"That's right, Jack! Capital; hard as shot! There's another s.h.i.+lling for you!"

The Kaffir grinned again with delight as he took the money.

"Good baas!" he said. "Two good baas! Baas want boy, Jack come 'long with you!"

"Not this time, my lad!"

"Very glad to come 'long with good baas!" said the man, in a disappointed tone of voice.

"No, we can't take you, my lad," said West, patting the big fellow on the shoulder. "Have the ponies saddled at daylight. We're going early."

The black nodded his head, and the pair, weary enough now from their long journey, and drowsy after their hearty meal, strode slowly back to the house, to find that the table had been cleared, save that a couple of big bread cakes lay on one end alongside of a little pile of biltong, the sun-dried mahogany-looking strips of ox-flesh so much in use among the rough farmers of the veldt.

The dirty-looking room smelt hot and stuffy, but a little window at the back had been thrown open, and the soft air blowing from off miles of plain made the place a little more bearable.

A common lamp had been lighted, and a streak of light came from beneath the ill-fitting door which led into the other room, from which the low murmur of voices could be heard as the young men entered talking cheerily together.

This announced their return, and the door creaked upon its hinges, giving entrance to the farmer, who pointed to the next day's provisions and significantly held out his hand.

"How much?" said West, and the man demanded an unconscionable amount, which made the pair exchange glances. But Ingleborough nodded as much as to say: "Pay the thief!" and the money was handed over and taken with a grunt. After this the Boer pa.s.sed into the next room, closing the door after him; but it did not prevent the acid voice of the vrouw from reaching the visitors' ears as if to protest.

"The old scoundrel won't hand over the plunder," said Ingleborough, with a chuckle. "I hope she'll give him what we didn't--a thorough good tongue-thras.h.i.+ng."

He had hardly spoken when he found that he had jumped at a wrong conclusion, for the door was pulled open again and the Boer reappeared.

"Tante Ann says you are to make haste and put out the lamp," he growled, "for she don't want to be burned in her bed."

"All right, uncle," replied Ingleborough. "Good night, and bless you for a fine specimen of the n.o.ble, freedom-loving Boer. Say good night to Tante too, and tell her that our sleeping chamber is the very perfection of domestic comfort."

"Hunk!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the farmer, and he disappeared again.

"I wonder that he did not turn upon you," said West, rather reproachfully; "he must have understood that you were speaking sarcastically."

"Not he," said his companion. "Thick-headed, muddy-brained brute; more like a quadruped than a man! The Kaffirs are gentlemen to some of these up-country farmers, and yet they are the slaves."

"Too tired to discuss moral ethics!" said West sleepily; "but really this place is awful. Agricultural implements in one corner, sacks of something in another, horns, saddles, tools--oh, I'm too sleepy to go on. Hallo! He has taken those two rifles away that were slung over that low cupboard."

"To be sure; so he has! Afraid we should steal them, perhaps, and be off before he woke! I say, did you notice how he examined ours?"

"Yes; I fancied he had noticed that they were Mausers."

"Oh no. They were fresh to him. Well, I'm going to take care that he doesn't help himself to them. I don't know what you're going to do, but I'm going to lie down on one side of that bed just as I am, bandolier and all, and I vote we lay the rifles between us."

"I shall do the same," said West. "What do you say to leaving the door and window open for the sake of the fresh air? No fear of lions here?"

"I don't know so much about that, but we should get some warning from the horses and oxen. Bah! It's not likely. What now?"

There was a heavy thumping at the door leading into the other room, and the vrouw's shrill voice was heard ordering them to put out the light.

"Tell her, West, that her royal commands shall be instantly obeyed by her obedient slaves."

"Shan't," replied West. "That will quiet her," and he turned out the light, putting an end to its abominable emanation of coa.r.s.e petroleum, while the soft starry light of a glorious night stole in, showing the shapes of door and windows.

"Hah! That's better!" said Ingleborough, making the rough bedstead creak as he laid himself gently down. "I hope none of these cartridges will explode. Oh, how I can sleep!"

"And so can I," sighed West, "even dressed up like this," after laying his rifle alongside of his companion's, straight down the middle of the bed.

"We didn't tell Jack the Kaffir to bring our shaving-water at daybreak,"

said Ingleborough, who now that he was in a horizontal position seemed to have suddenly grown wakeful. "I say."

"Well?"

"I wonder how our dear friend Anson is!"

West made no reply.

"I say! West!"

"Oh, don't talk, please. I want to sleep."

"All right, you shall, till I see the pearly dawn streaming in through that little window at the back here. I say, though, if you hear me turn round in the night and the cartridges begin to pop, just wake me up, or there may be an accident."

West again made no reply.

"And we should have Tante Ann waking up, when there would be a greater explosion still. There, good night!"

"Good night."

Then silence, save that the cry of some prowling creature far out on the veldt sounded wonderfully like the baying of a dog.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

A DARK VISITOR.

An hour must have pa.s.sed away, during which neither of the weary bearers of the despatch moved. Then in a low whisper West spoke.

"Asleep, Ingle?"

"Asleep? No," was whispered back. "I can't close my eyes."

"Neither can I."