Forging the Blades Part 12

"He's staying at our shop, Halse," said James, "so you'll be able to-stroll back together. I shall have to be a bit late, I'm afraid. So long."

"Well, it's time we did stroll back, then," said Halse, looking at the clock. "I just thought I'd drop in and see who was alive or dead.

Ready, Mr Denham?"

"Quite."

"I was a good bit surprised to get your letter saying you were actually here," began Ben Halse, when they were outside. "I'm rather of a cautious disposition--suspicious, some folks call it, but it's the upshot of experience, so I avoided any reference to our ever having heard of each other before."

"I'm afraid I've given the show away, then, Mr Halse, for only this morning I was asking them at the hotel where you were to be found."

"Ah, well; it can't be helped. Besides, it doesn't greatly matter."

Denham had been sizing up this new--yet not new--acquaintance, and the process took no time at all. His impression, at first sight, was altogether a favourable one. They had been in correspondence together-- had done business together--for quite a long time, and often had he speculated as to the up-country trader's individual personality. One thing was certain--the man beside him had always been as straightforward, in all their dealings, as any one could be.

"I've got a rare record head for you now, Mr Denham," went on Ben Halse. "A koodoo bull. Just as I'd got it, I got your letter, saying you were here. I thought I'd drive in, and if you care to come and stay out at my place a bit I'm sure you'd find a lot to interest you. It's precious wild and also a bit rough, but if you can put up with that, you're very welcome. By the way, don't say a word to any one here or anywhere else about the head. The Lumisana's a royal preserve, and there's a hundred pound fine for shooting anything there without a permit."

"By Jove! is there?" answered Denham, his interest kindling. "I'll keep dark, never fear. I shall be delighted, though, to take up your invite.

Here we are at the Nodwengu."

"_Amakosi_!"

It was the same Zulu Denham had noticed when with Inspector James. Him Halse now stopped, and began conversing fluently in his own tongue.

"You'll have to pick up the lingo, Mr Denham," he said, as the man went on. "You'll find it mighty useful."

"And mighty difficult, I expect," laughed the other.

In the verandah of the hotel a girl was standing. Denham looked at her with furtive interest. He had certainly not seen her there since his arrival.

"This is my daughter, Mr Denham," said his companion.

"How do you do, Mr Denham?" she said, putting forth a hand. "I seem more than half to know you already through the post."

Such a straight, frank, welcoming hand-clasp; such a straight, frank glance of the hazel eyes. Denham acknowledged the introduction with outward composure, but inwardly he was perturbed. What a splendid girl!

he was thinking. He had no idea that Ben Halse owned a daughter; in fact, had never given a thought to anything of the kind. And then the trader's cordial invitation seemed to take on an entirely new aspect.

If his first impressions of the father had been entirely favourable, precisely the same held good with regard to the daughter.

CHAPTER TEN.

IMPRESSIONS.

If Denham's impressions had been thus with regard to Verna, hers had been the same with regard to himself. She had seen him first, as he came up the garden path with her father, and the tall, fine figure, and clean-cut face had taken her imagination at once. She remembered, only the other day, asking her father what sort of man this would be likely to be, never expecting to set eyes on him, and now here he was.

"Got any room at the bigger table, Emmie?" said Ben Halse, as they went in. He had known the hostess of the Nodwengu--herself the daughter of a fine old up-country trader and pioneer--ever since she was born. "I like being among folks when I break away, which isn't often."

"Plenty. We're anything but full now, worse luck. Here, next me.

Verna, you sit there."

"There" meant next Denham, an arrangement of which the latter thoroughly approved. "Verna!" So that was her name, he thought. It sounded pretty, and seemed to suit her.

"You've only just arrived, I hear, Mr Denham," she began. "Well, I'm not going to ask you what you think of this country, because you haven't had time to form an opinion."

"I like what I've seen of it," he answered. "Ezulwini seems a delightful spot."

"Mr Denham collects b.u.t.terflies and beetles, and all sorts of things,"

struck in Mrs Shelford. "I came upon him this morning with a horrid leggy thing he'd just caught. What was it, Mr Denham? A praying-- praying--something?"

"Amantis."

"Yes. He'll be catching snails next."

"Shouldn't wonder, Mrs Shelford. I'm keen on capturing the skin of the _indhlondhlo_."

"He's jolly rare," said Ben Halse, with a twinkle in his eyes. "We might find one up my way, but it isn't certain."

"What did you call that snake, Mr Denham?" said Verna.

He repeated the word. Then, as something struck him--

"Now that's not fair, Miss Halse. Remember I've only been in the country a few days."

"Why? What? Oh, I see. No, really, I wasn't making fun of the way you said it; on the contrary, you p.r.o.nounced it so well I wanted to hear it again to make sure. Aren't I right, father?"

"Right--as usual. But joking apart, I noticed the same thing. You'll have to learn the lingo, Mr Denham, as I said."

"I'll try. By the way, what's the meaning of the name of this place-- Ezulwini?"

"In the heavens," answered Verna. "Pretty name, isn't it? It was named after the kraal of an old-time chief which stood on its site."

"Why, yes. It's rather good," said Denham. "It's much better to stick to the old native names instead of inventing British and new ones."

"I agree with you. But the worst of it is there are so few that the British tongue can get round," said Verna. "That makes rather a difficulty at a railway booking-office, for instance, when you have a newly-imported Britisher issuing tickets."

"Such as myself," laughed Denham.

"I didn't know you issued tickets," rejoined the girl mischievously.

"But the newly-imported Britisher!"

"Well, yes. I suppose you are that. But it isn't incurable."

There was a laugh at this. Denham was delighted. There was something about the girl at his side that was infinitely taking. She, for her part, talked on and talked well. How had she acquired the art, he marvelled, spending life in a place which her father had described as "precious wild." But perhaps she had been home to England for educational purposes. But to a question to that effect Verna promptly replied in the negative. She had once been to Johannesburg, and that not for long; beyond that she had never been outside Zululand and Natal.

"I am utterly uneducated, you know," she added frankly, but with the most taking smile.

"You don't expect me to take that seriously, Miss Halse?" said Denham.