LETTERS FROM HOME.
We wish we could say that from this time forward Oscar prosecuted his
journey without any mishap, but such was not the case. Accidents of all
kinds were of almost daily occurrence, and that was no more than one
could expect in a country in which the roads are left to take care of
themselves, and are passable only for the strongest of wagons, drawn by
teams the most powerful.
Before the foot of the Drackenberg Mountains was reached Oscar had
fashioned three new dissel-booms with his own hands, and the trek-tow
had been repaired more than once. But there was something of which he no
longer stood in fear, and that was treachery. His men were all capable,
honest, and willing, and never shirked their share of the work.
Before attempting the ascent of the dreaded Drackenberg Oscar
off-loaded and had his wagon thoroughly overhauled by a blacksmith.
He afterward told himself that it was well he did so, for he found the
pass to be the worst place he ever got into. His own oxen alone never
could have pulled his heavy wagon up that steep incline.
But, as good luck would have it, he came up with a couple of Dutch
farmers, who had spent two days in camp at the foot of the mountains,
smoking their pipes, and looking first at the pass and then at their
wagons, and trying to make up their minds whether or not they could
reach the top with two teams to each vehicle.
It was three o'clock in the afternoon when Oscar found them. He
immediately out-spanned a little distance away, and, in company with his
interpreter, went over to invite the Boers to drink coffee with him;
but, to his surprise, the men flatly refused to have anything to do with
him.
"What's the matter with them, Thompson?" asked Oscar.
"They say they don't like Englishmen, and won't drink coffee with
them," answered the interpreter.
"But I am not an Englishman," said Oscar. "Ask them if they ever heard
of America. I don't suppose they ever did," he added to himself.
In this the boy was happily mistaken. The Boers could not understand all
he said (it turned out afterward that they were by no means as ignorant
of the English language as they pretended to be), but they caught the
word "America," and straightway began to exhibit a lively interest in
our hero--that is, as lively an interest as men of their temperament
could exhibit in anything.
They took their pipes out of their mouths and looked at him, while
something that was doubtless intended for a smile overspread their
faces.
When the boy walked up and offered them his hand they took it and shook
it cordially.
"Now, Thompson, ask them again if they will come over and have some
coffee," said Oscar.
The men did not refuse this time. A Boer is very fond of coffee, and
although there are few of them who will spend any of their own money for
it, they are quite willing to drink it when it is provided at the
expense of somebody else.
Oscar's guests emptied their cups almost as fast as Paddy O'Brian could
fill them, and poured the hot liquid down their throats in a way that
made that worthy individual open his eyes.
"Now, Thompson," said Oscar when the huge coffee-pot had been drained of
its last drop, "tell them that if they will help me pull my wagon over
the Drackenberg I will help them pull theirs over."
This was a very plain and simple proposition, and it seemed as though
anybody ought to have understood it; but it was evident that the Boers
did not.
When Big Thompson repeated his employer's words to them in Dutch they
arose from their seats, went a little way from the wagon, and held a
long and earnest consultation.
Then they came back, and, through the interpreter, asked that the
proposal might be repeated. This they did so many times that Oscar began
to be provoked, and to wonder at their stupidity.
He afterward learned that this way of doing business was characteristic
of the Dutch farmers. They never would accept any offer until they had
consulted with some of their friends, and it was impossible to hurry
them.
Oscar's guests, although they were anxious to get over the mountains,
were fully half an hour in making up their minds whether or not they
would accept the proposition that had been made them; but they did
accept it at last, and after the bargain had been ratified by another
pot of coffee, liberally sweetened, they went back to their camp, and
Oscar proceeded at once to inspan. Half an hour afterward his wagon
moved off, drawn by thirty-six oxen, and began the toilsome ascent.
It was ten hours' hard work to reach the summit. Strong and willing as
most of the oxen were, they could not draw the heavy vehicle more than
fifty feet without stopping to take breath, and then it was necessary
that the wheels should be blocked with large stones, the brakes not
being powerful enough to hold them.
While Oscar was toiling up the pass behind one of the wheels, carrying
in his arms a stone weighing between twenty and thirty pounds, one of
the Boers, similarly provided, following close behind the other, he
often thought of Colonel Dunhaven, and wondered what the man who had
been ready to give up in despair because his wagon had been "stalled" on
level ground would have thought of such work as this.
There was danger in it, too, as Oscar learned before he had gone a great
way, for whenever they reached a particularly bad portion of the road,
where the rocks arose on one side and a gulf yawned on the other, the
Boer, who had by this time found out that he could talk a little
English, was sure to remark that a wagon had gone over there only a
short time before.
If Oscar's had gone over it would have taken a good many cattle with it
unless the trek-tow broke; but, fortunately, no accident happened.
The skilful drivers--there were two of them besides
Oscar's--accomplished the ascent in safety, and at last the summit of
the pass was reached.
There a breathing spell was taken and more coffee drank, after which the
Boers unhitched their oxen, leaving Oscar to take care of himself.
In two hours more his wagon was standing in the edge of a grassy plain,
and Oscar was sleeping soundly in his cot, while Paddy O'Brian nodded
over his pipe, and the Hottentots toiled back over the mountain to
assist the Boers.
About noon Oscar awoke, feeling perfectly refreshed, and, drawing aside
the fly of his tent, took a look at the dreaded Drackenberg by daylight.
It had been a bugbear to him from the start, and he had repeatedly been
warned that, unless he were possessed of an unusual amount of pluck and
determination, his journey would end when he reached it.
But it had been passed in safety, thanks to the friendly Boers, and it
was a relief to him to know that he need not bother his head about it
again, for a year at least.
Two days afterward Oscar reached Harrismith, and after outspanning below
the town he climbed the hill and made inquiries for Mr. Hutchinson, to
whom he had letters of introduction.
That gentleman said he was glad to see him, gave him a large package of
letters and papers which Mr. Donahue had forwarded by post-cart, and
invited him to dinner.
Oscar looked first at his letters and then at his clothes--which were
beginning to show signs of wear--and wondered how he could decline the
invitation.
"Never mind your clothes," said Mr. Hutchinson--a jolly old gentleman
who reminded Oscar of his friend Captain Sterling. "We don't expect
hunters to look as though they had just come out of some lady's
bandbox."
"I am greatly obliged to you, sir," replied Oscar; "but when I tell you
that these are the first letters I have received from home since
leaving Maritzburg I know you will not press the matter."
"Oh, oh--of course! Then say to-morrow--to-morrow evening at six,
sharp."
Oscar accepted this invitation, and, picking up his package, hurried
down the hill.
"Dinner at six," thought he as he quickened his pace almost to a run.
"These English cling to their old-time customs wherever they go. I
wouldn't delay the reading of these letters for the sake of all the
dinners that were ever served up."
The wagon seemed to be a long way off; but Oscar reached it at last, and
throwing himself upon his cot, tore open the package, and began sorting
out its contents.
He found there several letters from his mother; others from Sam Hynes,
Leon Parker, Captain Sterling, and Mr. Donahue.
The letters were long and full of news, and Oscar became so deeply
interested in reading them that he did not know that Paddy O'Brian had
twice called him to dinner.
"I don't want anything to eat," said he when Paddy had at last
succeeded in attracting his attention by thumping the fore-chest with
his stick. "I have something better on hand."
Oscar had not gone very far into his third letter before he felt as
homesick as Leon Parker did when he found himself, friendless and alone,
in the fort at Julesburg. A lump rose up in his throat, a mist gathered
before his eyes, and, throwing down the letter, he sprang off his cot
and rushed out of the wagon. It seemed to him that he would suffocate if
he stayed in there a moment longer.
"Paddy," he exclaimed, "put the saddle on Little Gray!"
"And don't ye want any dinner at all at all?" asked the cook.
"No, I don't. Hurry up!"
Paddy made all haste to obey, and then stood and looked wonderingly
after his employer, who, as soon as he was fairly seated on Little
Gray's back, set off over the plain as if all the lions in Africa were
close at his heels.