"I don't know; perhaps I might."
Jan took this for a sign of yielding. He bent over and passed his arm
around the girl's waist.
Susannah's dreaming was over. She sprang up and, in the act of doing
so, swung round and dealt Jan a swinging blow on the ear with her small,
but firm and nervous fist. Jan felt as if the thunders of the
Apocalypse had discharged themselves over his left shoulder. He put his
hand up to the side of his head to ascertain whether his ear was still
there or had been burnt off. Susannah had hurt her hand so much that
the tears started in her eyes. However, she managed to escape from the
mat-house without showing her distress.
Jan, very much crestfallen and with a bad singing in the left side of
his head, strolled away among the other camps. He could see, far out on
the plains, the two double dots which indicated the respective pairs of
lovers, and the spectacle made him sigh with envy. As the violent pain
in his ear calmed down to a sensation more like that of being gently
roasted, he began to make excuses for Susannah. Perhaps, he thought, he
had been too precipitate. At all events he would go back to tea, Mrs
Hattingh having invited him to do so.
When Jan returned at dusk he found van Lell and Henrico sitting on the
big cartel bed in the mat-house--the nuptial couch of Old Schalk--with
their arms around the waists of their respective charmers. On each of
the four faces was an expression of fatuous bliss. The lovers took not
the least notice of Old Schalk or Mrs Hattingh, or, for the matter of
that, of Jan himself.
At table the lovers did not allow their affections to prevent their all
making excellent suppers. The expected proposals had been duly made
that afternoon. During the meal each of the affianced maidens passed
little tit-bits into her lover's mouth with her own fair fingers from
time to time. These were munched with expressions of rapture by the
recipients. Susannah was still indignant, and glanced at Jan from time
to time in a manner that made him lose his appetite. The pain in her
hand had lasted longer than that in Jan's ear; of course she blamed him
exclusively for the hurt.
After supper another walk was proposed, but this was uncompromisingly
vetoed by Mrs Hattingh. Max came in later, and, as usual, sat down as
far from every one as possible. Jan wondered at the black looks which
the visitor got from the old couple. By and by, however, Susannah
brought her little stool close to where Max was sitting, and then a
glimmering of the true state of affairs came to Jan. The pain seemed to
come back to his ear with renewed intensity. Ere long he found he could
stand the strain no longer, so he said, "Goodnight," and rose to depart.
In response to a question from Old Schalk, he said that he would hold a
religious service on the following day.
Next morning at about ten o'clock there was a considerable gathering of
Boers at the Hattingh camp. Stout, frowsy "tantas" and portly "ooms"
strolled up with dignity or waddled laboriously through the sand.
Gaudily arrayed maidens followed with their attendant swains. A general
requisition for stools and benches, had been made, and these were
arranged in a semicircle in front of the wagon. The children of the
congregation sat on the ground where sheepskins had been stretched at
the feet of the elders. Old Schalk's chair was placed apart,
immediately below the wagon-box, in a position from which he could note
the effect of the exhortations on the faces of the others. The service
began with a psalm sung after the fashion followed in the Scotch kirks
of a century ago--very slowly, and much through the nose. Old Schalk
followed with a prayer, which might be described as so much denunciation
of people in general, clothed in the phraseology of the Prophet
Jeremiah, when the utterer of the Lamentations was most exercised over
the sins of Israel. There was a rumour afloat to the effect that the
Government was about to tax the Trek-Boers to some slight extent, in
proportion to the number of stock they depastured in Bushmanland, so Old
Schalk was the mouthpiece of the general indignation.
The prayer over, Jan Roster mounted the wagon-box and began his sermon.
His text was a wide one--it embraced the whole of the Ten Commandments.
In an unctuous and impassioned manner he fulminated against all sorts
and conditions of transgressors. Some of the Commandments he slurred
over--others he expounded at great length. When he reached the fourth
he glanced menacingly at Max, who stood outside the circle, opposite
where Susannah was sitting. The breaking of the Sabbath was, according
to Jan, the root of all evil. He called upon the legislators of the
land to impose the heaviest penalties for all contraventions of the
Divine ordinance on the subject. He spoke in the most opprobrious terms
of the Jews, who, out of the wickedness of their unregenerate hearts,
desecrated this most holy day, and kept Saturday as a day of devotion in
its stead. He, Jan, was a sinner, but among all the faults which his
conscience laid to his charge, Sabbath-breaking was not to be found.
No, he had always kept holy the Lord's day--never travelled on it--never
attended to worldly concerns between midnight on Saturday and the
morning of Monday.
Just then an interruption came. Piet Noona, Jan's driver and
confidential servant, forced his way along the side of the wagon until
he reached the front wheel, just over which Jan was holding forth from
the wagon-box.
"Baas, Baas!" said he, in an agitated whisper. Jan glanced down with
displeasure in his eye, frowned, shook his head, and proceeded to the
discussion of the fifth commandment Piet, however, was not to be put
off. He caught hold of the leg of Jan's trousers between his finger and
thumb, and began to tug at it.
"Baas, Baas!" said he again, in a tone almost of agony.
"Go away--wait until I have finished," said Jan, in an irritated
whisper.
"Baas, Baas!" reiterated Piet, in a whisper which could be heard by all
the congregation, "die Magistrate zijn wa' kom aan." ["The Magistrate's
wagon is approaching."]
Jan reeled and staggered as if he had received a blow. Then he bent
down towards the agitated Piet and whispered hysterically the word
"Inspan!"
Piet darted off. From the curt and summary way in which Jan dealt with
the remaining Commandments one might have thought that they were of
comparatively little importance. He brought the service to a close in
almost indecent haste, and then dived from the wagon-box behind the
canvas curtain, in front of which he had been holding forth. From there
he rushed to the mat-house, whence he emerged in an incredibly short
space of time, carrying the box of feathers. This he ran with to the
buggy. He shoved it under the seat, and over it he draped a sheepskin
kaross with ostentatious carelessness. In a few minutes the astonished
congregation, which had scattered into interested groups, was
scandalised at seeing Jan Roster, the strict Sabbatarian, disappear in a
dusty cloud on the road which led southward through the Desert.
However, Jan had got safely away with his tin box and its incriminating
contents, and there was not the slightest fear of any of the Boers
giving information to the authorities on the subject.
The Spedai Magistrate's wagon brought the Namies mail from Kenhardt.
The mail consisted of three letters--two of which were for Max--and a
few circular advertisements from enterprising promoters of patent
medicines.
Max's letters filled him with joy. One was from his brother Nathan,
saying he had made so successful a trip--having secured a large quantity
of feathers of the very best quality--that he had decided to visit Cape
Town for the purpose of disposing of his spoils and buying a fresh stock
of "negotie," or trading truck. Consequently he did not intend
returning for about another six weeks.
Nathan gave minute directions upon many points connected with the
management of the business--more especially with reference to the giving
of credit to the Boers, who, as he knew, would soon be collecting at
Namies in considerable numbers. The Hattingh account was, if possible,
to be closed at once; in no case was any more credit to be given in that
direction. Max sighed with deep relief. After the daily dread of
Nathan's arrival which had overshadowed him for so many weary weeks,
this long respite seemed like a prospective eternity.
The other letter bore a foreign post-mark. It was from a notary in
Hamburg, informing him that an uncle, of whose very name he had but a
faint recollection, had recently died and left him a legacy of about 150
pounds. It seemed a fortune. Why, with that sum he could open a store
for himself, as large as the one he was managing on a pittance for
another. What a relief it was to find himself independent of Nathan--to
realise that there was now some prospect of his being able to make a
home for Susannah.