Aletta Part 23

"No. I am going very soon, though." Then, following the direction of his glance, she introduced him to Colvin.

"What do you think of our main line of defence?" he went on, speaking English with hardly an accent. "Those men have the most perfect faith in themselves and their cause."

"Yes, they look business-like," replied Colvin, critically scanning the long string of mounted burghers as they filed past, most of them smoking their pipes, and chatting to each other in a placid undertone. "We had some of their kind in Matabeleland during the rising in '96, and they were right good men."

"Ah! So you were out in the Matabele rebellion?" said Da Costa, looking at the other with newly-awakened interest.

"Yes, had to be."

"I see. And are you, may I ask, likely to be out in this campaign?"

"Not in the least, unless as a spectator. Here I am not needed--there I was:--which makes all the difference."

"If you are, I hope we may meet in the field. I shall be pleased to show you all you may be wishing to see to the best advantage."

"Now, Dr Da Costa, you are not to encourage him," struck in Aletta.

"Mr Kershaw is not going to be shot at at all. He is not needed, as he says, and--you are not to encourage him."

The other, who had heard of Piet Plessis' attractive kinswoman and her English _fiance_, smiled good-naturedly. Then, to change the conversation, he went on:

"Did you make a long stay at Johannesburg, Mr Kershaw?"

"At Johannesburg?" echoed Colvin.

"Yes. Didn't I see you in the Rand Club about a fortnight ago? And again on Pritchard Street. Someone told me it was a Mr Kershaw."

"Someone told you all wrong then, doctor, for I came right through Johannesburg. I never even got out of the train there."

"That's odd," said Da Costa, with a momentary twinkle in his eye, as though he didn't believe a word of this statement. "It must have been only a likeness," he added tactfully.

"But the name," went on Aletta, opening her eyes. "It's strange they should have got hold of the name."

"Very, because, as I said, I didn't so much as get out of the train, let alone take a stroll as far as Pritchard Street, let alone the Rand Club, which is farther," said Colvin. "Well, we most of us have a 'double'

somewhere."

Which was precisely the remark made by the jovial Piet, when the occurrence was narrated to him on their return home. But for once his official instinct of reticence, even in trifling matters, was misplaced, had he but known it. Had he imparted the results of those enquiries he had caused to be made, what a deal of sorrow, and mistrust, and heart-wringing might have been thereafter saved!

"Is that man we met to-day going out with the ambulance department?"

asked Colvin.

"Who, Da Costa? Ambulance department?" echoed Piet, wonderingly. "Oh, I see," with a shout of laughter. "No fear. He's not a medico. He's a lawyer--running hard for a judgeship. But I say, Colvin, would you like to go up and see the President this afternoon? I think we could get at the old man to-day."

"Just what I would like."

"And, Colvin," struck in Aletta, "you are not to look upon Oom Paul as an old bear, as most English do. Remember, I have a great admiration for him."

Colvin promised to keep this fact in mind when forming his opinion, and in due course they arrived at the unpretentious-looking bungalow which was the private residence of one of the most famed personalities of modern times. As they went up between the stone lions which guarded, as it were, the entrance, they pa.s.sed a German officer coming down the steps, a straight martial figure, with upward-pointing moustaches _a la_ Kaiser Wilhelm, and wearing the uniform of the Staats Artillerie. He exchanged a salute with Piet, and the latter halted and took him aside for a minute's conversation.

"That's all right, Colvin," he said, rejoining him, while with a parting salute the German strode on. "He has just come out. Says the old man is in a pretty good-humour."

The President was seated in a substantial armchair as they were shown in. He was likewise smoking a substantial pipe. This looked homely.

As Piet introduced Colvin, His Honour did not rise, but merely extended a ma.s.sive hand, uttering a single monosyllabic word of greeting.

"_Daag_!"

"_Daag, Oom_," responded Colvin, as he shook the Presidential dexter, right heartily. His Honour, however, subsided into silence, during which Piet Plessis entertained him with a running comment on the lighter aspect of day-to-day events, ignoring _the_ situation of the hour.

"Who is the Englishman?" said the old man at last, designating Colvin with a wave of his pipe-stem.

Piet explained that he was engaged to be married to a near kinswoman of his who was staying with him. The Presidential features displayed some faint show of interest.

"Your kinswoman!" he said. "Whose daughter is she?"

"Stepha.n.u.s De la Reys, Mynheer. He lives in the Cape Colony."

"De la Rey! _Ja_, that is a good name, De la Rey," replied the President, nodding approvingly. "But--an Englishman!" Then, turning to Colvin, he said, still speaking in Dutch.

"Can you talk our language?"

"_Ja, Oom_," came the hearty response. During the conversational nothings fired off so volubly by Piet Plessis, he had been studying this wonderful old man before him, and in the strong ma.s.sive face could read the extraordinary and iron will-power which had made its owner the prominent figure in history that he was. Something of Aletta's thoughts came into his mind, and he too was wondering whether, had this born leader of men thrown in his gigantic influence on the British side, he would not have met with greater appreciation, nay would not his very defects be held to be rugged virtues? Being thus immersed, he failed to observe a grim tightening of the mouth, as he uttered that hearty and, as he thought, deferential reply.

"Have you been here before?" repeated his catechiser.

"_Ja, Oom_," replied Colvin. And then there was no mistaking the change which came over His Honour's countenance. He flushed, and a heavy frown darkened his brows, as removing his pipe from his mouth, he rolled out in deep, chest notes, like the bark of an angry mastiff.

"_Is nie jou Oom nie. Ik is die President_!"

["I am not your uncle. I am the President."]

The tone went up on an ascending scale, ending loud and staccato.

Colvin, for a moment dumfoundered, hastened to apologise, then with the utmost suavity of a.s.surance proceeded to explain that he himself owned an uncle whom he deeply revered, and who bore a most extraordinary resemblance to "Mynheer President." Then, he deftly went on to inquire about His Honour's earlier experiences in the old _Voortrekker_ days, expressing boundless admiration for those wonderful pioneers, and as he was really well up in their history, the old man, quite mollified, was soon descanting with unusual volubility on the subject of his early doings. Mean while coffee was brought in, and, as soon after as he could, astute Piet Plessis, seeing the conversation was taking a turn likely to excite His Honour, took the opportunity of terminating the visit.

"Look after him, Piet," said the old man as he gave them his hand, and there was the nearest approach to a smile lurking about his mouth.

"Look after him. He is an Englishman, but he is going to marry your cousin. See that he does not get into any mischief."

"Say, Piet?" said Colvin when they were well out in the street again, "I believe I put my foot in it some."

"Oh, rather!" answered the other, who could hardly speak for spluttering. "You're not the only one, though, if the truth were known.

You see it was all very well twenty years ago and all that to call him Oom Paul. But now the old man is rather sick of it. Only think, every dirty little Jew 'winkler' calling him 'Oom.' Besides, he's a much bigger man now and likes to be treated with a certain amount of state."

But not until he got safely home could Piet give full vent to his mirth, and then he literally laughed till he cried.

"You should have seen him, Anna," he spluttered between his tears. "Oh, Aletta, you should have heard him. Telling the _Ou' Baas_, so sweetly too, that he reminded him of an uncle of his whom he deeply revered.

Oh, oh, you should have been there! I simply didn't dare look up. I should have disgraced myself for ever if I had."

"Well, it had its effect," protested Colvin, who was laughing over the recollection almost as hard as Piet. "It smoothed his feathers at once."

"Really? No, really did it?" cried Aletta, who for her part had gone off into rippling peals.