Steve’s cousin and namesake had proceeded to the Transvaal some months before this.
We have mentioned the young man before as Steve’s tutor in the art of smoking. A few words as regards him will not be out of place here, as we may hear, off and on, of his doings, as affecting Steve. We have said before that he was a vacillating young man; a fact which he showed in every act of his life. Years before he surprised Steve’s constant young heart, during the Transvaal war of independence, by declaring—while the issue was as yet uncertain—that the English would give the Boers such a licking as they would never forget. He declared the Boers were cowards. He was one of those that took up the saying, that the Boers would run away at the first cannon shot. He changed his mind when the Boers were successful.Nowhe composed songs, in which he celebrated the victory of the Republicans in glowing terms, and abused the English tyrants enough to suit the taste of the most fiery Republican. Such was his nature. He was inconstant to his friends, he was inconstant to his sweethearts (mind the plural), he was inconstant to himself!
Like all such natures, he was a braggart and boaster. When he was amongst strangers he was a Crœsus in wealth, a king in power. Amongst his friends, he had always seen and done things wonderful to relate. Butnot one of them seemed ever to have the luck to be present when he saw and did these things. But his acquaintances knew him, and generally treated his stories with derision and contempt. Their ironical questions and looks appeared to his vanity questions and looks of belief and wonder.
He was not actually ill-natured or unkind. He had his tender spots. Real pain and grief greatly affected him, and brought pity into his heart, and at such times he was always amongst the first to render aid. In this respect only he resembled Steve. In all else he was his direct opposite. His vanity, love of boasting, and wish to thrust himself into a prominent part of whatever was taking place, together with a weakness to be on the side of the stronger party, was the bane of his life. The worst of him was that he did not seem to realise the shame and dishonour of deserting his party when it seemed to be on the losing side and taking up with the stronger.
Steve hated these faults in his cousin, and tried to reason sense and honour into him. But, being several years the junior of his cousin, his opinions were considered as childish, and disregarded. So Steve could only view his cousin’s backslidings with patience and grief; which he did; as he was thrown into daily contact with his cousin through force of circumstances. In one thing or another he had to do with him every day, and really bore him a sort of cousinly affection, but this was unaccompanied by any respect.
When Steve’s cousin left for the Transvaal a sort of correspondence was kept up between them. Steve tookadvantage of this to write to his cousin and ask him to look for a situation for him.
At this time, through the force of circumstances—the want of proper schools, the struggle for existence against poverty, native troubles, and other difficulties—the youth of the Transvaal were seldom educated enough to take their proper places in the civil service of their country, or in the commercial, law, or other offices, so that the Government were forced to employ Hollanders, young educated Afrikanders from the Cape Colony and elsewhere, in the civil service; and merchants, as well as other employers, were forced to do the same, the only difference being, that for Government service a knowledge of official language—Dutch—was absolutely necessary for applicants, while private offices were not always particular, especially commercial offices. Hence the abuse the Government has had to suffer on account of employing so many of their Hollander brothers. These disabilities on the part of born Transvaalers are gradually disappearing through the fostering care of Government. Schools are State-aided in an instituted manner now, and young Transvaalers are continually entering Government service more and more every day.
For the reason given in the last chapter, it did not take Steve’s cousin long to find a good situation for him; and when Steve received the letter in which his success was told, and bidding him come up without a day’s delay, his joy was unbounded.
His preparations did not take long. By selling everything that he had which he could not take with him, and scraping together every penny he had, he justmanaged to get together sufficient to take him to Pretoria—his final destination. Why linger over Steve’s leave-takings from friends and relatives? why should we restrain him with our presence when he bids good-bye to mother and sisters? why visit with him for the last time the haunts of his childhood? Many of us do not require to be told what took place, many of us have gone through it ourselves, have cast a lingering look on a beloved walk, or favoured spot, have given the last pressure to the hands of dear ones weeping, have felt the choking sensation which prevents the voice from saying the last word we fain would say, but must leave unsaid through emotion.
Steve was on his way to Eldorado; to the land of freedom and wealth; to the land where were centred all his hopes and ambitions for the future.
It was the first time he had left home for longer than a week; but in spite of his regrets to leave home, mother and sisters, he felt happy. He left as if he was a man at last. Free. He was going to fight the battle of life unaided; he asked for naught but a fair field and no favour.
Ah, Nature looked doubly glorious that morning as he rode through the surrounding hills and valleys and felt the genial sunshine and breathed the pure free air.
We will not accompany him any farther. We will leave him travelling on the top of the coach, enjoying his freedom and the beauties of Nature, as viewed from his lofty perch, free to indulge in his day-dreams and build his air castles unstinted for material; his rich imagination supplied all. The future is his; we will meet him in Johannesburg.
A coach halts in front of the coaching office, Johannesburg, a young man gets down and bustles about to secure his luggage, for here the coaches change, a new one has to be taken for Pretoria.
Of course this young man is no other than Steve. He arranges for his luggage to remain at the office until the Pretoria coach leaves, which will not be until three o’clock in the afternoon; it is only 10 a.m. now. He thinks the best thing he can do is to have a look round and see as much as he can of the place while he has the opportunity. He turns to a young man—whose acquaintance he has made during the journey on the coach, and who was returning to Pretoria, after spending a short holiday at the sea-coast—and said,—
‘I say, Harrison, what are you going to do while you wait for the coach?’
‘I am sure I don’t know. Kill time as best I can, I suppose.’
‘Suppose you act as guide and mentor for me in viewing the place. You know the place—I don’t—and you might take me to the places most worth seeing during the few hours we have. Come, be charitable this once, and help a green un.’
‘All right, old boy, I am always willing to be unselfish, and besides it will do as well as anything else to kill time and keep me out of mischief.’
He took Steve all over the principal streets to Hospital Hill, and gave him a bird’s eye view of all the surrounding places; and a sight worth seeing, too, it was to a young man that had just left a quiet provincial town. It was all bustle and vigour wherever he looked. It seemed as if there was an electric power in the air which forced everyone to do and act; no lingering or looking backwardhere, on, on, seems to be the watchword, or be left behind, to catch up never again. Even Steve seemed to feel this mysterious influence stealing over him as he stood gazing on the busy throng; he felt as if he would like to rush into the midst of them and to push and elbow his way until he was amongst the first, to stay there. For the moment Steve forgot his natural inclination to be reserved and quiet; he felt as if he could push and rush on with the best of them.
But other thoughts soon came crowding on; thoughts of pride and joy that he at last had the privilege to see the place fully which was so famous all over the world for its riches.
And this place belonged to his people—to the Afrikanders. Here they were free, and the equal of other races. Here they had the right to work out their own destiny. Ah, it was something to be proud of; this youthful but mighty and growing city; these surrounding and undulating plains, underneath whose green grass has lain concealed for ages past untold wealth. Wealth which was laid and preserved by Providence for the purpose of helping the people of his race to rescue their country from poverty and financial ruin.
Ah, God has been good to us. He means it well with us. We have a right to hope that he shall lead us on right to the end, if only we can remain true to Him as a people.
He spoke something of the latter thought to his companion, who was an Englishman, and who supposed Steve to be an Englishman too, from his pure accent, as he had learned to speak English very well, and with a purer English accent than is generally acquired by Afrikanders, through being in daily contact in his six years of business life with Englishmen. His companion replied,—
‘My dear fellow, do you think that this rich mining country will long remain in the possession of the Boers? If you do you are mightily mistaken. If the Boers do not themselves soon begin to see that they are unable tokeep all these Uitlanders in order, and ask the British Government to take the government of the country over, then England will take it over whether they consent or not?’
Steve felt a pang shoot through his heart.
‘But how can England take their freedom from them? They have once tried to do so, and the Boers fought for their country and liberty and got it back. How can England take it now again?’
‘My dear fellow, you must remember that at that time this country was only a poor, worthless desert and England did not consider it worth while fighting for?’
‘Take that for granted; but even then, do you think England would be so unjust to take the country from the Boers again, just because it turns out to be richer than she thought; that would be disgraceful.’
‘But England has, through her capitalists, thousands of pounds sterling—and soon it will be millions—at stake in the goldfields of the country; she is bound to look after the money her subjects have placed in this country.’
‘Let us put it plainly,’ said Stephen. ‘You have a house, I have a thousand pounds; I wish to find a safe hiding-place for my money, I think your house just the place; I hide it there, without your request or permission. But, on after thoughts, I think my money would be much safer if I had possession of the house instead of you. I arm myself; I go to you and say, “You clear out of this, my money is not safe while you remain in possession.” You refuse to go. I put a bullet through your brain, carry you out, bury you, and take full possession. My money is safe now, no more need be said—might is right. That is about how you place the case.’
Harrison shrugged his shoulders, and replied doggedly,—
‘You do not understand these national affairs; it is otherwise than with individual personal affairs,’
‘I hope I may never understand it, if it means dishonour,’ replied Steve.
After this they wended their way to view a mine or two, from the outside, as they felt they could not spare the time then to go inside a mine. There was very little to be seen from the outside—a large shed-like building, hauling gear over a seemingly bottomless pit, surrounded by heaps of quartz and débris. Steve could hardly realise that this apparently hard, common stone, called quartz, really represented the great wealth of the mines. He had hoped to see, at least, some visible gold, but he was disappointed. It was just hard, flint-like stone, without a particle of yellow metal visible; and yet he was assured the gold was extracted in paying quantities from this stone.
After this they returned to town, to seek some refreshments, and came to a large building in course of erection.
Steve saw a couple of children playing close by, under the scaffolding; he took no particular note of them, but stood admiring the architecture of the building.
Suddenly he heard a cry of horror behind him; he saw a gentleman and lady standing with upheld hands, with a horror-struck and transfixed expression, looking at the children near to him; he turned, and what he saw sent a thrill of horror through him. He loved children, and would rather bear pain himself a thousand times than see a child in pain, wherefore he felt the danger of a child all the more. What he saw was this: A little girl was standing under the scaffolding, innocently looking at a beautiful doll another girl was carrying in the street, without seeing the terrible danger that was threatening her. Above her a tremendously heavy beam, which was securely tied at one end, was slipping down on the opposite side, a workman was holding the dangerous end. A rope was tied round it, and he was holding with all his might to prevent its falling; but the weight was too much for him. He dared not take breath to call out for help, the waste of the least breath, or the least bit of strength taken from the effort of holding the beam, would precipitate its fall. But it was slipping—slipping. ‘MyGod,’ thought he, ‘will no one see and take away that child.’ Someone saw. The cry of the mother of the child and the look of horror on her face had drawn Steve’s attention to the danger. He saw all we have described in the flash of an eye. Not a moment did he hesitate or think what he should do. He never lost his presence of mind in danger. Like the arrow from a bow, he flew right under the threatening beam, the fall of which meant death to any living creature that might be under it. He seized the child by the dress, and came out on the opposite side of the beam. He felt a shock against his shoulder, as if some heavy object struck him. He felt himself whirled round several times by the shock, and thrown against the wall. The thunder, as of a falling mountain, sounded in his ears. But he held the child firmly in his arms; she was safe. The beam had fallen, if Steve had been a fraction of a second later, or the beam had fallen a fraction of a second sooner, both he and the child would have been crushed. As it was, it just grazed his shoulder. He was unhurt save for a severe bruise on the shoulder.
Of course, a crowd collected in a moment. The mother and father had rushed over from the opposite side of the street where they had been standing. The mother was hugging and kissing the child; the father was wringing the hand of Steve, with protestations of gratitude and service. A re-action came for the mother; she felt faint and could scarcely speak her gratitude to Steve. So her husband hurried her to a carriage with the child, and going to Steve said,—
‘My friend, you have done a brave action; you have saved my child, on whose life the happiness of my wife and myself depends. I am your friend and debtor for life; here is my card. Let me see you this afternoon, and if there is anything I can do for you, I trust you will let me know it. I would not leave you now, but I must take my wife home.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ replied Steve; he was thankful tobe prevented from saying more by being pushed and pulled away by the crowd.
He hurried to find his companion (who had seen and heard all), and said to him, ‘Come on, Harrison; we have no time to lose, if we do not wish to lose our coach!’
‘What, are you going away without accepting the invitation of your new-found debtor? I would not, if I were you. He might do something good for you. Let me see his card.’
On seeing the name on the card, he whistled in surprise.
‘I say, young fellow, your fortune is made; I wish I were you. Why, man, the name on this card represents the most successful speculator and company promoter on the Rand. Why, a tip from him is worth thousands. Of course you will change your mind and let the coach take care of itself, and go and see him as he requested.’
‘Of course not; I do not like this fuss and bother about nothing. I do not wish to be paid for doing a humane action. Come on, let us be off,’ And in spite of his companion’s repeated advice not to lose such an opportunity to make his way in the world, Steve boarded the coach and left for Pretoria.
Quixotic? Yes, I suppose so. Unworthy the nineteenth century? No! I think the nineteenth century is unworthy of such Quixotism. Such an act is only worthy of the time of knight errantry, when men acted only for the honour of the thing, and every deed was not valued in £ s. d. But then Steve lived in that time in a sense—in a shell; his shell was composed of books, in which such creeds are still taught and tolerated, even though they are derided and laughed down in actual life—that is, in ultra-civilised life, which really means ‘live for self, and self only; nothing for nothing, and everything forgold.’ But Steve was unacquainted with this creed as yet; let us hope that he will never become the slave of such a creed.
The writer of this has never admired the works of Rider Haggard; they are too untrue—untrue to Nature and the probabilities of life, and certainly untrue to facts, which are grossly exaggerated. But even in winter a strayed swallow is seen in our country. On the barest plain a tree is met occasionally, and in Haggard’s work I once came across something with which I can cordially agree. It is long ago since I read it, but it so surprised me that I have always remembered it. Yet it is so long since I read it that I am not quite sure in which of his works I saw it; but if I am not mistaken the thing is inJess. The passage I refer to is where he says that Pretoria is the prettiest town in South Africa; and if Haggard thought so in the days when he knew Pretoria, when the streets were swamps, covered with grass, and it was a danger to venture out of doors after dark for fear of breaking a limb in some concealed hole, when no better building—or hardly better—than the house which Jess inhabited existed in the town, what must we say of it now, when the streets have been rebuilt (more or less), when beautiful buildings—the best and grandest in South Africa—have been raised; merchant princes have erected palaces, beautiful stores rival European houses, and Government has covered a block of ground with a pile of buildings of which even Pretoria can be proud. Even Nature herself has been improved upon, if I may be allowed to say so. Plantations of trees have been planted, where formerly bare plots of ground existed, beautifully laid out ornamental and flower gardens enchant the vision. A block of tares, which grew only a crop of grass formerly, is now laid out in a beautiful park, worthy the name, with a large fish pond in the centre, and even a substantiallybuilt bandstand has been added lately. All in all, Pretoria more than deserves the name so often applied to it, ‘Pretty Pretoria’; it really deserves to be called beautiful Pretoria.
No wonder, then, that Steve, who possessed a keenly appreciative eye for the beautiful, was enchanted with the view which met his eye when he entered Pretoria through thepoort, from which emerges the road leading into it from Johannesburg, and he felt—like so many others have felt before and since—that once having seen Pretoria, a man may travel the world over, but he would ever feel a longing to be back in Pretoria. Many have felt this longing when in foreign lands, and have come back. Steve found his cousin waiting for him at the halting-place, and was soon introduced into his room at the quiet boarding-house, which had been secured for him at his request.
After a few days spent in resting after travelling for days in a cramped and crowded position, and becoming acquainted with the town in which he had resolved to make his home, Steve took his place in the office where he had secured the much-desired situation.
It did not take Steve long to get well into the mysteries of his work and the good graces of his employer and fellow-clerks. What pleased him most was that he came in daily contact with the Burghers of the district, which gave him the opportunity he had desired, viz., of studying the men whom he looked upon as heroes, in that they had dared so much and suffered so much, and had come out of the ordeal safe and victorious.
He found them distrustful at first, although kind and respectful. The stranger you are to them, the more civilly and kindly you are treated, but always with great reserve. But by studying them, and being always friendly and cordial towards them, he soon gained their confidence, and many was the pound of butter andbiltong, varied now and then by a dozen of eggs, a couple of fowls, and at Christmas time even a lamb, that he received from them as tokens of friendship.
He found that the better they knew you, and the more they liked you, the more they joked with you and teased you. They are very fond of teasing, which has led foreigners to take them in earnest, and spread all sorts of reports, repeating for fact what the Boers said when they were only what is vulgarly but expressively called chaffing them. They especially delighted in doing this to ‘green uns,’ but always with the utmost good nature, and only when they liked such a ‘green un.’ They would never do it to one whom they disliked or distrusted. By the good grace and good nature with which Steve received all this banter, he got to be greatly liked, and was soon considered as being quite one of them, and was known to them far and wide. We shall see a great deal more of them in connection with Steve’s adventures and life amongst them, and shall delight to study their character with him with the view of understanding better this much maligned people.
In this way Steve spent several years of quiet life. He applied himself vigorously to his work, so that, as we have said, he soon gained the confidence of his employers, and speedily obtained promotion and increase of salary, which enabled him, while saving considerably, to send many a present to his mother and sisters.
In the boarding-house where he lodged, he found quite a pleasant party, composed of many nationalities, amongst whom he struck up many friendships irrespective of language. He found himself a fellow-lodger of his cousin; his former travelling companion, Harrison; another Englishman, a colonial named Keith, and a young Afrikander named Theron, who formed his particular circle of friends, and they generally managed to be together when any excursion or picnic was undertaken.
Although, as we have said, he did not reallyagreewith his cousin, he felt that in common gratitude towards him for having obtained a situation for him, and as a duty due to cousinly affection, he was bound to include him as one of his friends.
In the boarding-house, the boarders were in the habit of forming themselves into a sort of free and easy debating society, for want of better recreation in the long evenings. That is to say those who did not care to spend their evenings in bar-rooms and billiard saloons, which formed Pretoria’s principal places of amusement at this time. Of course it goes without saying, that Steve kept clear as much as possible of these places, for he was accustomed in his native town to the idea that it was a disgrace for any self-respecting man or youth to be seen going into a bar. What shocked him was for the first time to see a girl serving drink in a bar, surrounded by a coarse and blaspheming crowd of young men. To him women had always seemed as creatures almost divine, too good to be touched without veneration. He thought they should be worshipped at a distance, and that in their presence the most choice and delicate language only should be used. There he saw them treated roughly and disrespectfully, and even handled as if they were only coarse, common, everyday human beings, and worst of all they seemed to be pleased with such treatment, and even to invite it by their actions.
‘Surely,’ thought he, ‘these girls must have mothers and fathers, who grieve over their disgrace and degradation; and many of them must have brothers—what must their feelings be to see their sisters in such a position?’ And he would utter a silent prayer for God to keep his sisters innocent and pure. Of course Steve’s horror of bars and barmaids gradually lessened, and he afterwards even went so far as to accept an invitation from a friend now and again to ‘Come and have something cooling this hot weather,’ or, ‘something warming this cold day?’ (for alcohol seems to have the power to cool on hot days andwarmon cold days); but he never allowed himselfto acquire the habit of frequenting these places, and when he did enter them, he always treated the barmaids with the utmost respect; for, said he, ‘The question is not, whether they are ladies, but whether I am a gentleman.’
Through his always keeping from bad places, and only going to places where he was sure respectability was guaranteed, he soon got into a good circle of society in Pretoria. He was received and welcomed in the best families, but his pride kept him from taking full advantage of this. He was too poor to meet them on equal terms, and rather than meet them as an inferior, even though it were only in purse, he would rather not meet them at all, except in a casual way now and again. For Steve was proud, and, what is more, he was proud of his pride. ‘For,’ said he, ‘if it were not for my pride, I would do many a wrong action which now I am too proud to do.’ He was never too proud to do a good action. He would stop and speak to the poorest beggar on the street if he could do good by it. He would walk alongside of a poor, ill-dressed person in the street, were his clothes ever so much patched; his hat so old that it hung over his eyes; he would never think of his dress, if it were a hard-working, honest man. But he was too proud to be seen in the company of a well-dressed, idle, good-for-nothing, bar-frequenting, prostitute-hunting man. He was too proud to speak or know a flighty, forward woman. And who shall say that he was wrong?
As we have said before, Steve and his fellow-boarders sometimes constituted themselves into a sort of debatingsociety, in which the public questions of the day were generally discussed. Let us follow Steve into the drawing-room, which he is just entering as a heated debate is on.
‘Hullo, Keith, at it again as usual, running down the powers that be of the land we live in,’ remarked Steve on entering. ‘What is the use of knocking your head against a rock; for I tell you this Government is as firmly established as a rock. Have you ever seen a big old mastiff walking along the street, calm and self-contained, a troop of curs following, barking and snapping at him, without the mastiff taking the least notice of their noise or snaps. Well, Oom Paul is the mastiff, the newspapers that abuse him and petty pot politicians (I hope the shoe won’t fit you) are the curs; there you have my opinion.’
‘So you think it currish to stand up for your rights, and agitate for it?’
‘By no means.’
‘What do you mean then?’
‘I think it currish to be perpetually barking and snapping at a man, as so many of the Jingo imperialistic papers and private amateur politicians are continually doing. You do not see it because you do not wish to do so; but just watch the actions of the Government, no matterwhatthey may do or decide upon doing, but it is reviled and cried down. They may do something with the most honest intention of pleasing the Uitlanders, but some sinister intention is found, or supposed to be found, lurking behind it. No contract is given out for some public work, no matter if the man be the best workman and has sent in the lowest tender, but somebody is sure to have taken a bribe from the contractor to work into his hands, and so with everything, just because it is a Boer Government; any stick will do to beat a dog with, or—a Boer official.’
‘Well, all the same, it is hard lines that an educated Englishman should submit to laws made by ignorant,uneducated Boers; we won’t submit to it. Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves, Britons never, never will be slaves; there you have my opinion.’
‘My dear fellow, no one wants you to submit to it. I don’t believe you got an invitation from the Boer Government to come here and live under their laws. All you have to do is to submit to it or leave. No one will prevent you or ask you to come back. I do not say this because I wish to make myself nasty, but, in common fairness, you must consider what is right. Here you come into a free Republic, inhabited by a quiet, peace-loving, God-fearing people. They have obtained their country after herculean struggles against enemies from within and without. Again and again they had to fight for country and liberty, and at last they seem to be safe, and wealth comes to them. Strangers from afar come unto them. (Strangers, besides, who are of the people who have persecuted and chased them from their old home, “into a new country, and out again”; and still are they threatened by the Government of these self-same strangers.) They share their wealth with these strangers, they give these strangers the protection of their laws, on an equal footing with themselves. But these gold-hunting strangers are not satisfied with this. It is not enough for them to share with the original owners of the soil—no, they want to bemasters! And because the owners of the soil will not walk quietly out of their country and give everything up to the would-be usurpers, they are reviled, libelled and abused. You are an Englishman, an Englishman’s boast is supposed to belove of “fair play,”where does your love of fair play come in here?’
‘But if they wish to share with us, why do they not share the franchise with us?’
‘That is it—you are asking for the handle of the knife. You know very well that if the franchise is given to every Tom, Dick and Harry, the Uitlanders will get hold of the handle, and if the Boers should try to pull itout of their hands, they will cut their fingers. You are asking them to simply commit political suicide. No, old man, a thing obtained, as their liberty was obtained, will be more cherished than to be thus lightly given up. Now, if your intentions were honest and fair to the Boers, you would quietly wait your hour until the stipulated time expires, when you may legally become a Burgher; and if the time appears rather long, I have perfect confidence that, if the Uitlanders will only show the Government that they wish to become peaceful, law-abiding citizens of the Republic, anxious to advance the honour and prosperity of the country of their adoption, which they can only do by working with the Government, and ceasing to show their prejudice to everything that isBoer, then I am sure the Government will soon shorten the time of probation, and take them into the fold of full burghership.’
‘Yes; but we are not going to humble ourselves and beg for a vote; no, by Jingo! sooner than that, we will fight for it, and take by force what is refused us when we ask for it. Besides, even though we are not strong enough to take the Government by force, we only have to get up a row, and start some sort of revolution, and ask the British Government to step in, and of course England will say to your President, “You cannot keep the peace, we will have to come and keep it for you,” and the trick is done,wacht een beetje.’
Such reasoning disgusted Steve, as I am sure it would many an honest and fair-thinking Englishman. However, he replied,—
‘All I can say is that, if England does this, her glory shall pass away from her; such injustice will be tolerated by neither God nor man, and England shall raise such a cry of shame as has never been heard before. She shall feel something like the man who opened a hive of angry bees, and when the bees are stinging and buzzing about his ears, she shall be sorry she ever opened that hive. But I must say I have more faith in the honour and justice of your countrymen than you seem to have.’
Such discussions as these were the order of the day, and the sample given above may be taken as a fair example of the opinions of the two parties in the country. We shall leave the debaters now, but on some future occasion we shall take advantage of the privilege of historians to visit them again.
After a few years stay in Pretoria, Steve and his four special friends made up a party for a sort of picnic and shooting expedition combined.
They procured a roomy Cape cart and four horses, laid in a stock of tinned provisions for three weeks, and started one sunny morning in August.
It was a beautiful day, and our friends enjoyed the sunshine and fresh air greatly, after their long confinement in town and office. Steve’s cousin, as usual, took a leading part. He was driving. After a halt for breakfast and again for dinner—which was doubly relished for being partaken of in the open air—they went on at a good pace, so as to arrive in time, before dark set in, at a certain farm, the owner of which was known to Steve.
‘Well, I declare this is grand,’ remarked Steve as he lay back in the cart, comfortably settled and puffing away contentedly at his pipe. ‘I do enjoy driving at a good pace, with the wind fanning your chin—oh—ah—her—goodness gracious, where are we going to? I must remark here, and at once, that Idon’tenjoy a journey to the centre of the earth, where you seem to be taking us, cousin mine. What in the name of goodness do you mean by driving us in here?’
‘But I am in the path.’
‘My dear fellow, don’t you know that when you come to a place like this, the farther you are out of the path the safer you are? Let me instruct you now, once for all, that while you are driving this company, when you come to a black-looking, soft, soapy, muddy hole like this, turn out of the path, and cross where you see the longest grass, and if a cart or waggon has never ridden there before so much the better.’
For the benefit of the reader, who is unacquainted with Transvaal roads, we will describe the sort of ‘black, soft, soapy, muddy hole,’ as Steve called it. In certain patches of the country stretches of a black, soft soil are found, something like what, I imagine, an Irish bog to be from descriptions that I have read of it. When rain has not lately fallen, it is hard and firm enough, but where a stream runs through it,thenyou have to be careful. Those who know what they are about, generally take good care to cross where no one else has crossed before, and where grass is growing, where the grass itself and its roots form a pretty safe bridge across. But where waggons or carts have been in the habit of crossing, the grass and roots have been cut up, down you go, horses and all, up to the nave and over. In just such a hole our young hunters now found themselves. The horses were up to their bellies in the soft mud, and could find no foothold to work themselves and the cart out. The cart itself was simply floating on the mud, the bottom of the cart lying like a boat on it, while a little of it ran in and blackened the tan-coloured shooting boots of the occupants. What were they to do now? To leave the cart meant a mud bath, and such mud!—black, sticky, oily mud!
I am afraid they would have made up their minds to spend the night in their uncomfortable position; but always when danger seems to be greatest, help is near at hand.
Fortunately for them, they were in sight of the farmhouse where they intended spending the night; and thekindly old Boer and his two sons were soon seen coming along with half-a-dozen oxen yoked to a long chain.
The chain was soon fastened to the harness of the leaders, which the rescuers could just reach, and the oxen pulled out cart and horses. But what a state they were in; the nice tan-coloured harness was painted black as far as the mud reached, so were the horses and cart. But fortunately night was coming on, and the entry of the visitors to thewerfdid not look so disreputable as it otherwise would have done.
The farmhouse at which our young friends arrived in such an unclean state, was a really fine villa, had only lately been built, and was as comfortable and commodious as any town-built villa, and as good looking too. A verandah surrounded the house, affording a shady seat at any time of the day; a convenience which is greatly valued in this country, especially in December and January, when it is too hot and close to remain indoors with any sort of comfort.
The rooms inside were comfortably furnished, each spare bedroom being provided with a feather bed, wash-hand stand, chest of drawers, surmounted by a mirror, and a couple of chairs. Of course the bedroom of the father and mother of the house was the bedroompar excellence, and was furnished in style. The dining-room possessed an expanding dining-table and a suite of morocco covered chairs, also mahogany sideboard, and a few pictures—sea views—mounted in gilded frames, adorned the walls.
But the room on which the most money and care had been lavished was the sitting-room. An upright piano inone corner faced an American organ in the opposite corner; a thick carpet covered the floor, on which was distributed a satin-covered drawing-room suite and table to match; a whatnot and book cabinet occupied the two corners not filled by piano and organ; innumerable vases, ornaments and nick-nacks completed the decorations, as far as the furniture was concerned. As to the walls, they were reserved for the family portraits—grandfathers and grandmothers, both paternal and maternal—fathers and mothers ditto; and then came two grand life-size portraits of the present head of the family and his wife, flanking a family group of the whole existing family.
The house overlooked a fine valley, through which flowed a rivulet of bright clear water, from which was irrigated the grand orchard and ornamental trees which occupied the whole stretch of ground lying between the rivulet and the house. This orchard was the pride and care of the mother of the house, who was assisted by a ‘Cape boy’ (bastard), who in turn was assisted by two or three Kaffirs in the care of the orchard. She had taken particular pride in ordering fruit trees and vines of the best and latest varieties, as well as roses and flowering shrubs and ornamental trees, such as her neighbours had never seen before, from the Cape and Natal. Of course, the father of the house had enough to do, even with the assistance of the sons, in looking after the numerous lands lying lower down the fertile valley, and then he had the care of the large herd of cattle and sheep grazing on the surrounding hills; besides which cares, he had lately been busy planting timber and fodder trees. Lately he even had to do without the assistance of his two sons, as one was studying for some profession in Edinburgh and the other at Bloemfontein, O. F. S., while he himself had lately been elected a member of the Volksraad, and was thus obliged to spend four months of the year in town, assisting at the council of the nation.
This particular farmer had not always been so well off as now. When he first married he had this farm—inherited from his father—a couple of hundred sheep, a dozen or so of cows, a waggon, and one span of oxen. He and his wife went to live on this farm with no capital whatever to work this uncultivated and houseless farm. He set to work, built ahartebeest house(mud house), composed of three little rooms—kitchen, dining-room and sitting-room combined, and a little bedroom. Together they worked and economised, saving every penny they could, madekraals, planted trees, sowed the lands, made irrigation furrows, and tended their flock of sheep, until they got fairly well off and saved enough even to buy another half farm adjoining theirs.
The discoveries of gold came, gold was found on the lately bought half farm, and was sold for £20,000 cash, with a quantity of shares in the company buying it. Thus prosperity came, and our former struggling, hard-working Boer, who had to put his own shoulder to the wheel and work hard himself, if he wanted anything done, could take matters easy and enjoy himself.
What did he do now—live on the fat of the land and let others do the work? No. Just here I want to point out a peculiarity which I have noticed in our Dutch farmers in the Transvaal.
In the boom for gold farms, many a formerly struggling farmer has suddenly found himself a rich man, selling his farm, or one of his farms, for from £10,000 to £100,000 or more, and yet, amongst them all, I do not know of one of them that has given up his former simple mode of life and leads a retired easy life. They may build a larger, finer and more comfortable house, furnish it better, be more lavish in their hospitality, but their former occupation is never given up. Still they sow their lands, still they tend their flocks, still the season’s yield of wool is taken to town, and from the proceeds thereof the household requirements are provided. A progressive farmer will spend some of his thousands toimprove his farms, his implements and his stock, but his occupation is kept, with few exceptions. Even members of the Government, who formerly farmed, keep their farms going, visiting them now and then, even though they could not attend to them themselves. Even so with the particular farmer we have been describing. His wealth increased his responsibilities and cares, but in nowise decreased his work.
We have given this description of a farmer of the wealthier classes; we would give his name, but it would serve no purpose, it might only displease him, as he, in common with most of his race, dislikes publicity. Let it suffice that the description given is from life.
Steve and his friends were received with the greatest cordiality; first, because Steve was known to the family and liked by them, and secondly, because hospitality is natural—in fact, seems born in a Boer. You will arrive at a farmhouse—poor or rich—you are one of the so-called hated nation—arooi nek(nickname given to Englishmen because their tender skin causes their necks to blister and turn red in the hot South African sun, literally meaning ‘red nek’)—unknown; at the door you meet a youngster just able to talk. You will dismount. This premature young man will come up to you with an air of—playing the hostabout him, will take hold of your hand, give it a shake, and say,—
‘Wil Oom nie afzaal nie?’ (Will uncle saddle off?)
Yes you will.
‘Well, then, uncle can walk just right in and have a cup of coffee; I will see to the horse.’
Well, as I said, our young friends were well received,and soon found themselves seated around a supper table, as well laid and as well provisioned as man’s heart could desire in such a locality. Roast beef, stewed guinea-fowl, leg of venison, stuffed with bacon and baked vegetables, salads, etc., custard pudding, blanc mange, fresh butter, cheese, etc., washed down with coffee, and such coffee as only aTanteknows how to brew, and that Java coffee too. After supper, the party adjourned to the sitting-room, where they were soon followed by theTante, after she had seen to the servants getting their food, and the remnants of the supper had been safely put away.
‘Now, Stephaans,’ said she to Steve, ‘you or your friends must come and look at a bee-hive that awinkelier(shopkeeper) made me buy in town last week. It is one of those new-fangled patent things. Its inside is full of pieces of wood—goodness only knows what for. They say it is better than just an empty box for the bees. I don’t understand it. Do you or any of your friends understand it?’
Now Steve saw a chance to distinguish himself in the way he liked to do—by being useful. Apiarian books had been among his favourite studies, so he knew all about it, having always kept one or more hives for study and also for—honey.
‘Well,Tante, if you will send for the hive, I shall explain all about it to you.’
The hive came, and Steve surprised even his companions by the learned dissertation he gave on bees and bee-keeping. He surprised the simple old gentleman and his lady almost into disbelief, when he told them the queen was the mother of all the bees in the hive; that she was only a fully developed female bee, reared from the self-same egg from which the worker bee is raised, and that she is only made a queen by over feeding and by giving her more space to grow out in in the cell. That the drones, or, as they called them in Dutch,water-carriers, are not water-carriers, but that they are, in fact, great, lazy, good-for-nothing male bees, who love to live onwhat the females earned in the fields, and absolutely refuse to do any work (as so many of their sex, even in the human race, delight to do); that, in fact, they were unable to do any work—not being built that way; but were only called into existence to be husbands to the young queens, which may be raised during the season for the purpose of sending out swarms, and thus obey the command of the Creator when He said, ‘Go forth and multiply.’
But their surprise reached its climax, when he told them that he could make the bees manufacture a queen for themselves, should they be queenless, by simply giving them eggs or larvæ to make her from; that, in fact, he could force them to make as many queens to his order as he liked by simple manipulation, and that he could thus make three or four swarms of bees out of one in a season. He tried to explain to them all this, and by explaining the why and the wherefore, he soon got them to believe and understand him. He also showed them how to fix and wire the wax foundation in the frames, and thus spare the poor bees a lot of work; also told them how, by the use of an extractor, they could extract all the honey from the combs without breaking the comb, and thus save the bees the time and expense of wax to rebuild it. ‘All you have to do is to replace the empty comb in the hive, when the bees refill it.’
The Oom and Tante were especially pleased when it was explained to them that by the use of the modern hive they were spared the cruel necessity of destroying any of the young bees or brood, when taking the honey out, or, as it is truthfully called,robbing the hive, and that the honey reserved for the use of man was pure, without young bees or pollen (bee bread).
From bee-keeping the conversation drifted to gardening, vegetable and flower, as well as fruit culture, in all of which Steve was an adept. He told the Tante of so many new modes of grafting and pruning, that she exclaimed he talked like a book.
In this way it happened, that Steve gained the friendshipand respect of all the country people he came across. He could talk to them of things they understood and which interested them—matters concerning their everyday life.
After a good night’s rest and a hearty breakfast, our friends once more resumed their journey, being anxious to get farther away from town, where there would be a greater probability of getting something to shoot at.
About three o’clock in the afternoon they reached another acquaintance of Steve’s, and were received with an almost effusive welcome.
The family consisted of Oom Ignatious, Tante Letta, Ignatious, junior, eldest, Daniel, second eldest, and Lettie, junior.
Oom Ignatious (pronounced Ignaas) was a spare, slightly grey old man, with a slight stoop in the shoulders, partly from hard work and partly from a weak chest. He was a kindly old man, uneffusive, but always had a smile and a kindly word for friend or enemy. He never lost his temper—at least, not visibly, whatever his inward feelings might be; when annoyed he hardly showed it. He always remained civil and kind, but was ever firm and strong in upholding what he considered right.
Tante Letta was fat, fair, and forty. Her estimated weight was three hundred pounds. She had never been weighed; when asked, she objected on the ground that it was only desired to ‘drijf de spot met mij’ (to make a laughing-stock of me). But with all her weight she was a good old soul. Everybody loved the old lady for her goodness. She could never do enough for you to show her hospitable inclinations. She was always bustling about,causing wonder and surprise to all how she could remain on her feet all day in spite of her great weight. When you did manage to persuade her to sit down and have a chat, she simply charmed you with her kindly, smiling, fat, double-chinned face.
The two sons were both big giants of young men, straight as a die, broad-shouldered, deep-chested, healthy-looking and strong, handsome in face and figure, with curly light brown hair, clean-shaven cheeks, but wearing light handsome moustaches. Finally, as to moral character, they were their father and mother’s children in deed as well as name. But little Lettie was the angel of the house. I can’t describe her with sufficient power to place her before the reader as I knew her. I will attempt, but I know it will be a failure, and will give the reader only a bare idea of her looks. Tall, slender, with a graceful willowy carriage, what a poem in her walk, in her every movement and look! What sweetness in those large star-like eyes, gleaming like dark-coloured diamonds under the long-lashed eyelids. The lines of the face, the shape of nose and chin, I cannot describe, I simply give in; I know not to what style it belonged; I only know they were—Beautiful. The mouth I can and will describe.It was made to kiss.The long hair was worn loose, and flowed in waves down to the waist in a dark, massive cloud. The dress was a loose, simple gown, fitting the form sufficiently close to show the perfections of the figure; smart costumes would only mar such a figure.
Steve will never forget the walk he took alone with Lettie to the flower garden that afternoon; to him she was the fairest flower that ever he had seen.
Reader! to prevent any future disappointment, I must here state that Lettie is not going to be the heroine of this story; that Steve is not going to marry her, or even to fall madly in love with her. He admired and liked her, but after this visit she passes out of his life; we shall hear no more of her. I have tried to placeher before the reader as I still see her in my mind’s eye, as a type of the better class of Boer girls, whose figure has not been spoiled by bad taste and knowledge of dressing, and, alas, by hard work too. For many a poor farmer is obliged to help himself with the labour of his girls for want of servants; and thus their shoulders become bent through constant stooping and hard work, and their figures spoiled and ruined.
I have been told of a certain farmer who ploughed, sowed and reaped his lands with the aid of four girls; while one tended the sheep, one the oxen, one led, and one drove the span of oxen pulling the waggon. And thus he had to do all his work with only the assistance of his daughters. He had been blessed with a troop of girls, and not one boy. And as to native labour, since the gold mines are offering such high wages, the poor farmer must consider himself lucky if he can get any at all; while many cannot afford to pay a price sufficiently high to keep their boys from going off to the gold mines. Thus it is that we see so many ill-figured Boer girls. But for all that, I do believe that amongst the Boer women are to be found some as handsome as any in the world. The faint attempt at a description of Lettie is not drawn from the imagination, but is exactly as she was known to the writer.
It was amongst this family that our party of hunters now found themselves.
As I have said, they were welcomed most heartily, their horses were soon stabled and themselves led into the house and refreshed with coffee and cake.
Oom Ignatious, not having had the luck as yet to sell a gold farm, had to content himself with a moderate-sized farmhouse of the old Dutch style, mainly built by himself and friends. It consisted of a dining-room, hall and sitting-room combined (nothing unusual), three bedrooms—one bedroom for the old people, one for Lettie, and one for the boys—and a kitchen—five altogether.
Oom Ignatious’s wealth consisted of his oxen and sheepand in what he managed to raise from his lands, on all of which he contrived to live comfortably without any waste or want, but without having much surplus over at the end of the year.
When Oom Ignatious heard that they were out for the purpose of killing something, he told Ignatious, junior, and Daniel to leave the work they were at and show them the haunts of certainoribeand steenbuck that they knew of.
Our party of greenhorns failed to bag anything in spite of repeated attempts. The young Boers showed them buck after buck quietly grazing in the long grass, but, standing or running, our young friends missed every shot. At last Keith said, ‘These young fellows are laughing at us, the bucks are too far away, you can’t hit them at such a distance.’ The young Boers, who knew a few words of English, understood this, but said never a word, and kept on making themselves as agreeable as possible to Keith with their scant knowledge of English.
At last, they were on their homeward way, no game in their bags, when suddenly Ignatious pulled Keith by the arm, enjoined silence, and pointed to a distant rise in the level plain and said,—
‘Do you see thatoribelying there against the butt?’
‘Where? I do not see anything but grass.’
‘There, don’t you see where I am pointing?’
‘No, old chappie, you do not come it over me, there is nothing there.’
‘Well, give me your gun.’ He had left his gun at home not to spoil the sport of their guests.
Keith gave him the gun with the remark that it was only a waste of ammunition. Ignatious knelt on one knee and rested his arm on the other, took aim and fired, something bounded in the air at the spot pointed out and fell down again and nothing more was seen. Ignatious quietly handed Keith his gun back and led the way towards the spot. Daniel was holding Steve’s gun in his hand admiring the workmanship of it, when, as they approached thespot, a buck was seen running from it. Everyone shouted, ‘There it goes,’ and ran in a slanting direction as if to intercept it when a shot was heard. Once more the buck bounding into the air several feet, fell down to rise no more. It was Daniel who had fired this time and killed the buck on the run. They went towards it, cut it up, took out the intestines and shouldered it, when Ignatious said, ‘Now let us go and get the other one.’
‘Which one?’ said Keith.
‘Why, the one I shot.’
‘But this is the one you shot at?’
Ignatious laughed quietly and said,—
‘The one I shot will never run again; I shot him just behind the shoulder.’
Keith stared at him and thought he was being fooled again, so did not say anything more, but followed Ignatious, only to be led to a deadoribe, shot dead through the heart—the bullet had penetrated the buck just behind the shoulder, as Ignatious had said he intended it to do.
Keith thought to himself, ‘I wish I could fire a shot like that, and be as sure of it too. Why, it was three hundred yards away if it was one.’
After a pleasant evening and a good supper, our party went to bed, Steve and Theron occupying the bed of the old people, while Harrison, Steve’s cousin and Keith took possession of the boys’ room; those who were thus ejected, satisfying themselves with ashake downon the floor of the dining-room and kitchenrespectively. At whatever sacrifice, the guests must be made comfortable!
It had been arranged that the visitors should have another try at thoseoribe, but this time under the guidance of the old man himself, as the young men had arranged to leave after breakfast for thekerk plaats(farm on which a church is built, and where periodical services are held).
They would have stayed to oblige their guests, but two fair ones expected them there; the arrangement had been made to meet there, and even the claims of hospitality could not induce them to disappoint two loving hearts.
Everyone on a farm is too busy before breakfast to go shooting; the sheep had to be counted out of the kraal and sent to the veld, cows had to be milked, and all the work of the farm had to be set going and to be seen to first; therefore the party could not leave till after breakfast for the veld.
Ignatious and Daniel had to ride out to an outlying station before starting for their own particular trip. After breakfast, Steve was standing talking on the stoop to Lettie, waiting for his party to get ready. Ignatious and Daniel had just saddled their horses, and were saying good-bye to Steve and his party, as they would very likely be still away when Ignatious and Daniel returned from the out station, when they would immediately leave for thekerk plaats.
‘What fine fellows these brothers of yours are,’ remarked Steve to Lettie. ‘You ought to be proud of them.’
‘So I am. I only hope that if ever I marry, I may get a man as good as they are for a husband.’
‘Daniel is going to get married soon, is he not?’
‘Yes, within three months, probably. Do you think he looks sickly, or unhealthy?’
‘No; on the contrary, I think he looks remarkably healthy and strong. Why do you ask?’
‘Because, a few days ago, I came into his room; he was looking at the photo of his intended; tears were in his eyes. I asked him, “What is the matter?” He replied that he loved her so much, and that yet she would never be his wife. “What! never your wife!” I said, “and you are going to be married in a few months to her; what do you mean?” He replied thathe felt it in his heart; he did not know why, unlesshe should die before the time came. And then he told me that I was to take his Bible, if he should die, and his sweetheart his new hymn book, and other things he told me to give to mother and father, as well as something for Ignatious. The foolish boy, as if he were going to die so soon; the idea is ridiculous; and yet, if he should die, I don’t know what we should do without him.’
‘Oh, you need not fear for him, he is strong and healthy enough to outlive us both.’
No more was said, and Steve did not think much of what was said, but he had reason sooner than he could have thought, to recall this conversation.
At last they started, and all hoped to have better luck than the day before. Steve was a fairly good shot at a target, in fact he was (like most South Africans) a born shot; but he had never had a chance to practise rifle shooting at a distance at real game, but he was a good hand at bird shooting with a shot-gun. Ever since he was a boy of twelve, he used to scrape his pennies together to buy powder and shot, and go pigeon-shooting with an old muzzle-loading shot-gun, which had formerly belonged to his father, and a good hand he learned to be at it by such practice. It was one of the few kinds of sport he enjoyed; he loved shooting. For the above reasons, Steve longed to bring down a real antelope of some kind, but he was doomed to disappointment. The game was too shy, and kept at a distance, requiring a really good shot to bring them down. Theron was the only one to kill that day. After a long walk in the hot sun and among the trees, Theron succeeded, bytaking a good steady aim (and being told what sight to put on by Oom Ignatious) at a buck standing broadside on, unaware of their presence, in bringing it down. Oom Ignatious refused to shoot, as he said he did not like to spoil their sport, but inwardly he thought that, after the previous day’s occurrence—of which he had been told by Steve—it would be too unkind to humiliate the poor young greenhorns by a display of his accurate aim, for he knew that with him to shoot was to kill. The sun was hot and heavy, thunder-clouds were beginning to rapidly cover the sky, so it was determined to return home as fast as possible before the heavy storm, which was surely coming on, broke on them.
Reader, have you ever taken note of the signs of a heavy African thunder storm coming on? Have you felt the awful depressing heat, which seems to make the heart feel too faint and languid to beat? Have you noted the awesome, mysterious twilight that seems to settle over the earth? A moment everything appears to be alive and joyous; birds are singing, cattle bellowing, all nature murmurs a pæan of gladness forlife. In another moment everything seems to hide itself and hush its breath. Not a murmur is heard, not a leaf rustles, not a breath of wind is felt. It is the calm before the storm. Now the suspense seems to be agonising; it gets darker and darker. Suddenly the leaves seem to rustle out of very fear, as if they longed to break the silence, for they rustle, and yet not a breath of wind is felt. Then gradually you hear an ever-increasing roar at a distance. My God! what a crash is that! It is the first clap of thunder thatbreaks over your head, seeming to strike near you, all around you; you feel that you are not safe, you long for shelter, for company, for somebody to share your terror. Such a thunder storm seems to make cowards of the bravest. It is an invisible enemy; an irresistible danger seems to threaten you, to surround you, to search you out, hide where you will. If you never prayed before, you feel as if you would like to pray now. Deny it if you will, hide it if you might, look as brave as you can, yet I tell you youdofeel awed when the thunder of heaven seems to speak to you with the voice of an angry God.
After that first clap, the silence is broken, the storm is on you. Clap after clap of thunder strikes around you. The lightning seems to blind you. The trees bend to the ground before the great force of rushing air, and those that will not bend must break, and come crashing down, crushing everything underneath them, and obstructing the paths and roads.
The rain seems to come down, not in drops, nor in sheets either, but in one continuous mass. You can hardly draw your breath because of the wind and rain; and in a moment you find yourself wading in six inches, ten inches, twelve inches of water on the level plain. Woe to the flock of sheep that finds itself in the least hollow or depression between two butts or rises of the rolling plain. They are drowned where a few moments before they stood on dry veld, seemingly safe against any flood. Such was the storm our friends found themselves in now. They could do nothing but pull their hats over their eyes and plod and wade wearily along. Wet to the skin in a moment, their clothes clinging most uncomfortably to them, the house seeming to recede farther and farther away as they struggled on; even the much-prized buck which Theron had shot was dropped and left lying in the veld. Their only desire was to get home; to get at least a roof between themselves and this terrible thunder.
Thank God, it is passing over at last. It did not last long, but while it did last it was terrible!
Now it gets lighter and lighter. The blue sky peeps out gradually larger and larger on the western horizon—the direction from which the storm had come—at last, even the sun comes out again. And everything peeps forth again. The lambs begin to play, the calves gallop and frolic about, the birds sing merrier than ever; and the trees—they can only weep tears of joy that the cruel wind does not bend them down so cruelly any more. Now the storm is raging towards the east, its distant rumbling is heard, and the clouds look piled up in black and blue masses in that direction.
Now our party is able to walk again; the water has gathered in the hollows and rivulets. By choosing high ground, progress can be made.
They were nearing the house when they saw a man approaching towards them in a slanting direction. What can be the matter with him? Surely such a storm was sufficient to sober the most intoxicated man on earth? And yet this fellow must be drunk. See how he staggers; sometimes he drops on to his knees, and clasps his head between his hands, and even at this distance they can hear him sob as if his heart was breaking. He rises once more, sees them approaching now near by, he cries out aloud, stretches his arms towards them in a supplicating manner. They hear the agonising words escape from him. Oh, my brother? The old man turns as pale as death. He recognises his eldest son, as did the rest. Oom Ignatious rushes forward; he reaches his son just as he drops down in a dead faint. His father lifts him, holds him in his lap, and cries,—
‘Oh, my son, my son, what has happened? Oh, my God, see how he is scorched! Oh, horrible, his clothes are crumbling as if burnt; his skin comes off. Oh, my God, have pity upon a poor father, and spare my son.’
The young man opens his eyes once more and murmurs, ‘My brother, my brother,’
‘Where is your brother, Ignatious?’
‘Over there,’ he replied, pointing to a round hill commanding the rest of the valley.
‘I’ll go to him,’ said the old man. ‘Is he hurt, too?’
‘No, father, you must not go. Steve will go with his friends. You must go with me to mother to prepare her for the terrible tidings.’
‘What terrible tidings? Ignatious, that you are wounded?’ queried the old man.
‘No, father. I am terribly scorched, but I may yet recover; but poor Daniel—oh, my father, that I should live and he die when we were side by side.’
‘What—dead!—dead!—my Daniel dead? You cannot know what you are saying; you are delirious from your wounds.’
‘No, my dear father, I fear me he is dead. Take courage; you must be strong and help us to comfort mother; come.’
The old man seemed to make a strong effort, rose and helped to raise Ignatious.
‘You are right, my son. Your mother must be our first care; come.’
He begged Steve, with tears in his eyes, to go and find Daniel while he went home with Ignatious, who could scarcely stand.
‘I will send a cart or waggon at once to bring him home, if you will only wait there and do unto him as if he was your own dead brother.’
Steve and his four companions went, and what a sight met their eyes!