"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 classic 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 nobody. 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 lustre 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 sturdy, 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 pass [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 niggers
assegaied 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."
"How provoking you are! Now I appeal to all of you. If you see me
cornered by Will Jeffreys, come to the rescue."
"The greatest bore I ever knew," began Claverton, "was a lady--an
elderly lady. She would volunteer instruction on any and every subject
under heaven, from the precise length of Aaron's beard, to the cost of
soup-kitchens; and once she cornered you, you had to listen or pretend
to. One day she cornered me. It was in the drawing-room, and there was
no escape; but there was a clock opposite. It occurred to me to time
her. For exactly twenty-one minutes she prosed on uninterruptedly, like
a stream flowing over its bed; never stopped to take breath once. A
sermon was a joke to it. Twenty-one minutes! Heaven knows how much
longer she would have gone on, but for a lucky interruption."
"What was she prosing about?" said Ethel.
"I haven't the very faintest idea."
"Well, I don't believe a word of the story. I believe you made it all
up."
"You don't believe a word of that story?" said Claverton, with a stare
of amazement, while Hicks and Laura went into fits.
"No, I don't; at least, I'll say this much--you may have known such a
bore, but if so it was a man, not a lady."
"I've told you a bare fact, upon my honour. But if--"
They were interrupted by the appearance on the scene of Jeffreys
himself; but Ethel was too quick for him. She had seen him coming, and
was already on her way indoors. Then she began to sing duets with
Laura, whom she had manoeuvred to the piano by some mysterious signal.
Young Jeffreys, feeling very sulky and sore at his enslaver's
capriciousness and want of consideration, went and sat by himself at the
other side of the room, whence he could watch the author of his
discomfort. The old people, under no necessity to talk, waxed drowsy,
and nodded through the music. Presently Laura left the piano and, in a
trice, she and Hicks were deep in an animated conversation in a low tone
and in a snug corner, under pretence of looking through a pile of music.
Ethel the while was extracting wondrous combinations from the keys,
under cover of which she was carrying on a sharp running fire of banter,
or rather word-skirmish, with Claverton.
Jeffreys, watching them, was on thorns and tenterhooks. Who the deuce
was this stranger? A month ago no one had ever heard of him, and now
here he was, with his damned finicking ways and smooth tongue, thinking
that all the world was made for him. A fellow, too, he'd be bound to
say, that with all his easy-going blarney, couldn't sit a bucking horse,
or hit a haystack at ten yards. Yet there was Ethel carrying on
furiously with this fellow, while he, Jeffreys, was sent to the wall.
In reality, however, there was nothing that those two were saying that
all the world--Jeffreys included--would not have been perfectly welcome
to hear.
"Claverton," suddenly exclaimed Hicks, as two hours later they were
discussing the usual pipe before turning in. Jeffreys had joined them,
but did not add much to the conversation. "I hear you're going to stay
on here."
"Yes, I am."
Jeffreys' jaw fell at this announcement. He had been laying balm to his
wounded spirit in the thought that this interloping stranger would soon
be going, and then--well, the field would be clear again.
"Glad to hear it, old fellow, awfully glad. By Jove, it's the best news
I've heard for a long time."
"The deuce it is! And why, may I ask?"
"Why? Only hear him! Haven't I had to do everything by myself, and
knock about by myself? No fellow to talk to at work, or to go out and
sneak a buck with, or to blow a cloud with at night, and so on. Now
we'll have a rare good time of it together."
"Especially when you go down to feed the ostriches," said Claverton,
with a mischievous laugh.
The other coloured and looked foolish, and was about to make some
stammering reply.
"Never mind, Hicks," said Claverton, in that wonderfully attractive
manner which he now and then exhibited, "I don't think you and I will
quarrel. Now I'm going to turn in. Good-night. Good-night, Jeffreys."
"I say," inquired Jeffreys, after he had gone out. "Is that
cattle-branding on to-morrow?"
"Yes."
"Well, I think I'll stay and give you a hand, if Mr Brathwaite doesn't
mind. Times are slack, and there's nothing doing at home."
"Rather--mind you do; we'll be only too glad," answered Hicks with a
yawn, as he blew out the candle; and in five minutes more a mild snore
or so showed that he was out of reach of any further conversation.
Jeffreys lay and ruminated. Here, at any rate, he would be in his
element. What sort of a figure would that stuck-up, priggish fool--
again, reader, pardon a jealous man--cut in the cattle kraal among the
clashing horns and the charging of maddened beasts, and all the dash and
excitement of a piece of very rough work, by no means unattended with
danger? He was all there in the drawing-room; but where would he be at
this? And Jeffreys dropped off to sleep with a sardonic grin upon his
countenance, to dream of his rival--for so he had already begun to
regard Claverton--losing nerve, and being tossed and trampled by the
wildest brute in the herd. As to the fulfilment of which benevolent
expectation the morrow would show.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. No native is allowed to remove stock from the colony without a
pass granted by his late employer to certify that he acquired it
lawfully. This pass is countersigned by the various magistrates and
native agents along the road.