The Fire Trumpet Part 8

He looked with a trifle of wonder into the lovely eyes, now so soft in the moonlight. What an impulsive little thing it was, he thought. Then she said: "Do give me that drawing you made while the ostrich was waiting for you. It's sure to be fun."

"With pleasure. Here it is," pulling the old envelope out of his pocket. "It about represents the position, though I'm no artist."

It did. When Ethel examined it in her room half an hour later she found a very comical sketch reproducing the situation with graphic and whimsical distinctness. It was labelled "Cornered--or Brute Force _versus_ Intellect."

They found the other two standing over the mortal remains of a large old porcupine. The spring-gun had been set with the precision of clockwork, and no sooner had the luckless rodent entered the mealie-land than he ran his nose against the string and promptly received the contents of the infernal machine clean through his marauding carcase. There he lay--a spoiler who would spoil no more. Said Hicks:

"I'll come down in the morning and get some of his best quills."

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER SIX.

IN A NEW LINE.

"Of course you know the place well?"

"Every inch of it. Two thousand _morgen_, rather over. What did you say Van Rooyen asks for it?"

"Three thousand. Probably he'd take less."

"Far too much. It isn't particularly good veldt; sheep don't do well there, and the place is nearly all bush. And then there's that stony hill right over the river, about one-fifth of the whole area. What sort of house is it?"

"A cla.s.sic tenement meriting the veneration of the Society for the Preservation of Ancient Buildings."

"Humph! You'd better have nothing to do with the concern."

The above dialogue took place about three weeks after the events recorded in the former chapter, the speakers being Claverton and his host, who were returning from a ride.

"You have made up your mind to settle here, then?" went on the latter.

"Yes, I've taken rather a fancy to this part of the country."

"H'm! Well now, I'll tell you what I think. Don't you be in too great a hurry to buy; there's nothing like keeping your eyes open a bit first, and biding your time. Plenty of these fellows would be very glad to clear out. The Dutchmen round here are mostly a bankrupt lot, living from hand to mouth, and you'll soon be able to make your own terms and get a much better place than Springkaan's Hoek, which old Van Roozen, by the way, has done his best to spoil."

"But do you know of another place about here that would be likely to suit me?"

"Not at present--that is, not one that's in the market. But I've been thinking, why not stop on here a bit and help me? You'd get into practice and learn your craft, so to say. You see, at present you know precious little about it, though you're quicker at picking up wrinkles than most new hands who come out. I'm getting old now and am beginning to feel it, and can't look after things as much as I should like them to be looked after. As for Hicks, he's a smart fellow enough, but then he can't be everywhere _at_ once, and as it is he has his hands full. Now between you and him, all might be kept going, which would be a great help to me, and, as I said before, you would get the experience you want before setting up on your own account. And it's not enough to see things done, the great thing is to know how to do them yourself. We do a little of everything here, as you see, and I don't think you could be much better placed for learning to farm," added the old man, with a touch of pardonable pride.

Claverton readily closed with this offer. Already during his stay he had done many a hand's turn, helping Hicks to look up missing stock, or seeing to odd jobs about the homestead when that invaluable majordomo was out of the way; and his host's practised eye had gauged his capabilities, seeing that he had all the makings of a first-rate colonist. The advantage of this offer Claverton could tell at a glance was all on his own side.

"You see," pursued Mr Brathwaite, "farming now is not what it was. You needn't expect to make a fortune at it, but still you can always make a very decent living, and then the position is a thoroughly independent one, the life a free and healthy one, you are absolutely your own master and need care for n.o.body. Times are very far from what they used to be, I admit; stock is more expensive, and there are more drawbacks in the way of bad seasons, diseases, long droughts and used-up _veldt_; but even then a good farmer can always manage to keep above water, and in a fairly prosperous season can forge ahead. Look at me: I've been burnt out, stick and stone, by the Kafirs in three successive wars, and have had to begin life over again, yet I've always got on. The secret of it is to look after everything yourself. It won't do to set your people to work and go away expecting them to do it, you must off with your jacket and work _with_ them. And you must be here, there, and everywhere at once, Kafirs want continual looking after; directly they begin to think the 'Baas' is getting careless, good-bye to anything going straight. I don't mean to say that you must always be finding fault with them, they are naturally stupid devils and you can't make them anything else; but you can let them see that you've got your eye on them and will stand no nonsense. The great thing is to keep your temper with them, and, above all, to treat them fairly but firmly. Then again, you must make up your mind to being out in all weathers. The heavier and the colder the rains, the more certain are the Kafirs to huddle in their blankets under a bush or before a fire, and leave the flock to take care of itself.

With the result that at nightfall about a third of it is missing and remains out in the _veldt_ for the benefit of the jackals and wolves; what these leave perhaps stray to some Dutchman's place, and when you get them again you find that they are covered with _brand ziekte_ [scab]

from his miserable brutes. As I say, there are drawbacks innumerable, but it rests with yourself to minimise them."

"Yes; I quite grasp the situation in all its bearings."

"Very well, then, that's settled, and I think you'll have reason to see that my plan is the best."

They were nearing home now, and the sun, which was about an hour above the horizon, shed a soft, golden l.u.s.tre upon the broad, sloping plains and on shining cliff and undulating vale, with many a dark patch of forest here and there. The peak of the Great Winterberg, his snowy cap now removed--sleeping in a filmy haze against the horizon, and the lofty backs of his lesser satellites purple and gold as they stood in the shade or in the sun--formed a grand and effective background to the picture, the beautiful range stretching from east to west, far as the eye could travel. Beneath lay the homestead, reposing among its shadowy trees, looking the very abode of peace and prosperity. Scarcely a breath of wind to ruffle the balminess of the air, nor a sound to create one, save for the occasional droning hum of some insect, while now and again the soft mellow note of a hoopoe sounded through the slumbrous dimness of the far distance. Looking upon this vista of rest and stillness, and in the midst of its influences, it was hard to realise that the red tide of war could ever engulf this fair land, and its fierce and jarring clangour break rudely upon such quiet calm.

On their return they found a visitor awaiting them. This was one Will Jeffreys, a st.u.r.dy, broad-shouldered fellow of five-and-twenty, with rather a heavy expression of countenance bordering on the sullen. A man who was shrewd enough as regarded all matters directly in his line, but would have a difficulty in grasping a very ordinary joke, and who was totally deficient in appreciation of aught beyond the humdrum and practical. A man who might be a good fellow at bottom, but certainly was a crusty dog on the surface. He was the son of the neighbour referred to in the foregoing chapter, as having brought the girls to Seringa Vale, and was well-to-do. But in one respect, at least, Will Jeffreys wandered out of his natural groove. He had a genuine admiration for Ethel Brathwaite, whom he had met on previous occasions of her staying at her uncle's, and though he had returned home only that morning, had saddled up his horse and ridden over, under pretext of consulting Mr Brathwaite about a certain span of oxen which he thought of buying--most transparent of pretexts, which his good-natured father saw through at once, and went into fits of laughter over as soon as his hopeful's back was turned.

"Poor Will!" he would say to himself, "he's only singeing his wings. He hasn't the ghost of a chance in that quarter."

"Poor Will" certainly had not the ghost of a chance, for Ethel in no wise reciprocated his admiration, though she would accept his homage carelessly and half unconsciously at one time, and ruthlessly snub him at another, particularly when the admiration became too open and undisguised. Now it so happened that that afternoon they had been discussing the latest importation in all his bearings, with the result that young Jeffreys greeted Claverton with no great show of cordiality when the two were introduced. Nor was it increased by Ethel's remark: "At last, Mr Claverton! I thought uncle and you were never coming back. Why, you've been out nearly the whole day."

"Well, Will," said the old settler, heartily. "Had a good trip?"

"Yes, very good on the whole, thanks. It's rather dry up Colesberg way, and the locusts have been bad there, but my oxen were in good order, and I came through quick."

He had just returned from a transport-riding trip up the country.

"H'm! By the way, did your father manage to get back his horses?"

"No. He and Bob followed them as far as Tembani. The fellows had got a forged pa.s.s [Note 1] and walked through right under the agent's nose.

After that the spoors separated; the thieves had taken two of the horses in the direction of the Tambookie country, the other towards Sandili's; and, of course, at every kraal they inquired at--for the spoor was soon lost--the headmen did their best to put them on the wrong track, although they set up to be no end sympathetic. We've got a spy down in the Gaika location, but a fat lot of good he'll do; he's sure to be in league with the rest," growled Will, who was not in the best of humours.

"No, you can't do much when the whole country is in league against you.

We're quite at their mercy. I'm afraid you'll never see a hoof of them again," said the older man.

"Of course not. Three as good all-round horses as we ever had on the place, though Bles was a dev--er--a brute for bucking, at times.

By-the-bye, Mr Brathwaite, there seems to be an awful lot of stock-lifting going on just now. Seven of Dirk van Heerden's best cows cleared off last week, and not a head of them has he been able to get back, except one which had dislocated its shoulder, and the n.i.g.g.e.rs a.s.segaied it to save its life."

"Well, it's time to count the sheep. You'll stay to night, Will?"

He was delighted.

"Er--thanks--I--er, that is--"

"All right. Better put your horse in the enclosure; only mind the bird."

"How tiresome that Will Jeffreys is getting!" remarked Ethel that evening, as some of them were standing outside in the garden. "Listen to him prosing away in there."

"Ssh! He'll hear you," said Laura.

"I don't much care. He comes over to see us, and instead of trying to amuse one he bores us with tiresome yarns about this Dutchman losing his cows and that Dutchman finding his horses."

"But what on earth do you want him to tell you about?" asked Hicks.

"Why, some of the news, of course. The gossip, scandal, engagements, and so forth."

"But he don't know anything about that sort of thing, so how can he tell you about it?" said Hicks.

"Oh, you're just as bad. Do go and join him and hear about Dirk van Heerden's cows. Please take my part, Mr Claverton. Isn't Will Jeffreys a bore?"

"Haven't been long enough in his company to answer with any certainty.

Will let you know later."