FRIENDS
A week later the jails in the town were emptied, and the prisoners
taken to the race-course. Some rough wooden huts had been erected for
the men, and the officers were to use the grand-stand.
"At least we shall have a good view from the top," one of the officers
laughed. "We shall see our fellows coming a long way off, and the
bombardment of the forts, which will, I expect, be the first thing
done. I hope that if the Boers fight they will make their last stand
well away from the town. It would be maddening if there were to be a
battle going on before our eyes and we not able to help."
The strictness of the watch was in no way relaxed. Men constantly
paraded the enclosure, which was formed of strong palisades. Others
kept watch outside, where several ranges of barbed wire, to which
empty tins were attached in such a way as to make a clatter at the
slightest motion, seemed to render it impossible to get out without
giving the alarm, even if the palisade were scaled. The time passed
heavily, in spite of the efforts of the officers to amuse themselves.
With make-shift stumps, bats, and balls they played cricket, and the
men in their part of the grounds did the same. They ran races, had high
and wide jumps, played rounders, and did their best to keep up their
spirits, but it was heavy work. The subject of the war was avoided as
much as possible. It was maddening to know that fierce battles might be
going on while they had lost all opportunity of sharing in them, and
that when their friends, on their return, asked what share they had
taken in the fighting, they could only reply that they were captured in
one of the first fights and had seen nothing of the war afterwards.
Ten days after they had been moved, one of the guards, as he sauntered
past Yorke, coughed, not in a natural way, but as if to call his
attention. Yorke looked round with apparent carelessness, as other
guards might have their eye upon him. The man passed on without looking
at him, but Yorke had difficulty in restraining a shout of delight when
he recognized Hans. At first he could scarcely believe his eyes, but
as the man lounged away, he recognized the figure beyond the shadow of
doubt. He sat down upon the ground, took out his pipe and filled it,
and when Hans again came past he asked him for a light.
"Where is your room, Master Yorke?" Hans asked, as he fumbled in his
pocket.
"It is at the other side of the house--the door nearest to the
right-hand corner looking at it from here."
"I shall want time to think it out, Master Yorke. I only got taken on
to-day. I will speak to you again to-morrow." So, striking a match and
handing it to Yorke, Hans went away.
Yorke felt that great caution must be used in speaking to Hans for
as a new hand he might be watched for a time to see that he did not
communicate with the prisoners. He lay back on the ground, pulled his
hat forward as if to shade his face, and tried to think things over.
Even now he could scarcely believe it possible that Hans could have
travelled all the way from the Modder to Pretoria. He knew how warmly
the faithful fellow was attached to him, but not for a moment, while
thinking over every conceivable way of escape, had it occurred to him
that Hans would have come to his relief. Hans was a slow thinker,
and he should not have given him credit for his undertaking such an
enterprise; and even now that he had succeeded in making the journey
and in getting himself engaged as a guard, he felt sure that he could
not have the slightest idea as to what his next step should be. Getting
up after a time, he went back to the room where he and eight officers
slept.
It had formerly been an office of some sort, and the outside door
opened directly into it. Hitherto he had not examined the lock, for
the palisade and the wire fences beyond it offered such impregnable
obstacles, that the mere question of getting in and out of the room
was of secondary importance. He now saw that there would be no great
difficulty in shooting the bolt of the lock on the inside, but there
were strong staples with a bar and padlock outside. These had evidently
been put on only when it was decided to transform the grand-stand into
a prison. His pocket-book had not been taken from him; it had a pencil
attached, and he now wrote:
_I was delighted to see you. Even with your help it will be very
difficult for me to make an escape. Of course, nothing whatever can
be done before you happen to be on night guard and be posted near my
door. I can force the bolt of the lock inside. There is a padlock
outside, and you will either require a file to cut through the staple,
or a strong steel bar with which you could wrench it off; but the file
would be the easier. With a short rope I could climb the palisade, but
the difficulty is the barbed wire outside. I will think over what can
best be done with that, and will let you know. Of course I shall want
a disguise to put on if I escape; it must be a very dark night when we
attempt it. I have no money; have you any?_
Having torn out the leaf and folded it up small, he went out again,
strolled down to the palisade, and looked through it at the wires with
their pendent tins. "It would be an awful job to get over them even
without the tins, but with them it seems altogether impossible to do it
without noise," he thought to himself. "I am very much afraid Hans has
made his journey in vain." He opened the little bit of paper and added:
_I shall need a little bottle of oil so as to shoot the bolt without
making a noise, and you will want one to help you to file through the
staple._
Hans came on duty again at twelve o'clock. Yorke did not go near him
for an hour, then he repeated the performance of the previous day, and
as Hans held out his matchbox to him he slipped the tiny folded paper
into his hand, and presently sauntered back to his companions and
joined in a game of rounders.
That evening when they were locked in their rooms he told the others:
"It must seem to you madness, but I have made up my mind to try and
escape. I know that I may be shot in doing so, but I mean to try."
"But the thing is impossible, Harberton," one of them said. "It will
simply be throwing away your life."
"I am perfectly aware that it is very dangerous, but I have made up my
mind to risk it. Why I tell you is that I don't wish to do anything
that would cause greater precautions to be taken, and so make it still
harder for anyone else to escape."
"It could not be harder than it is," one of them said; "so if you can
hit upon any plan of escape, by all means try it. You can speak Dutch
well, and might get off. But if you could take us all out with you I
would not try, for the betting against one's making one's way across
the frontier unless speaking the language is at least a thousand to
one. They might not make any extraordinary fuss about one fellow
getting off, but if eight of us were to do so they would scour the
country everywhere and telegraph all over the place."
"I think it is, as you say, a piece of madness," another said. "Of
course, if you are willing to try, we don't want to prevent you; but
you may be assured that, even should you by a miracle succeed, none of
us would care to take the chances of getting out of the country. Of
course Mafeking is the nearest point, but there are Boers all round it.
While I regard it as impossible that you should get out, I consider it
would be still more impossible for any of us to make our way across the
frontier if we escaped with you."
"Thank you!" Yorke said quietly. "Certainly I mean to try, but I did
not wish you to regard me as a cad for going away and not giving you
a chance to escape with me. If you had expressed your opinion that my
escape, if effected, would in any way make things more unpleasant for
the others, I should have given up my idea at once."
There was a murmur of approval among his hearers. "It is a very proper
spirit, Harberton," the senior of the party said. "I know it has always
been considered that a prisoner of war has a right to make his escape
if he can, although such an escape may render the watch over the
others more rigorous. Still, I think myself that it is a selfish and
ungenerous action for any man to take, unless he is sure that others
will not suffer for it. However, in the present case the watch is so
close, and the obstacles to be overcome are so great, both in getting
out and in making one's way across the country, that in no way could
the escape of one officer add to the rigour of the imprisonment of the
rest. Frankly, as far as I can see, bribery is the only possible means
of escape, and unless you have a secret store, and that an abundant
one, you can hardly hope to succeed with any of these fellows, for
there is no question that they hate us bitterly."
"I am not thinking of that method. My resources at present are
represented by four shillings, which would not be sufficient, I think,
to tempt any warder to give me his assistance. I am by no means sure
that I shall get away, but if I do, it will be with the assistance of
a friend in the town. I do not wish to say more, because after I am
gone--that is, if I do go--questions may be asked, and it would be best
that, instead of refusing to answer them, you should be able to say
that you knew nothing of the manner in which I had escaped, nor who had
assisted me."
Yorke again strolled down to the palisade and stood looking through
it thoughtfully for some time. The fences outside were certainly as
awkward obstacles as could be imagined. The posts were six feet high;
the wires were about eight inches apart, and the barbs a little more
than six inches. On each wire were hung three tin cans between each
post. There were three lines of fencing. The lowest wire was four
inches above the ground, differing from the others only in having no
tins attached to it, there not being depth enough for them to hang.
Suddenly the puzzled look on Yorke's face was succeeded by one of
satisfaction.
"It is as good as done!" he exclaimed. "With a strong pair of nippers
the bottom wire can be cut, and that will leave a sufficient space to
crawl under. There will be about a foot clear between the ground and
the next wire. After deducting an inch for the barb, there are still
eleven inches, and lying perfectly flat one ought to be able to crawl
under that, taking care to avoid the tins."
That day and the two days following Yorke did not go near Hans. One
of the other guards might notice the latter talking two or three days
in succession to the same prisoner. On the third day he again placed
himself in his way and handed him a note.
_Get a strong pair of wire-nippers. Let the rope be about eighteen
feet long. There is nothing else I shall want to enable us to get
away. If you can get another rifle and ammunition, and hide them
some little distance from the prison, all the better. I shall save
some food--enough, I hope, to last for two or three days. You had
better bring some in your pocket too. There will be no moon on Monday
next, and if you are on guard that night near my door we had better
try then. At eleven o'clock I shall be listening for the sound of
your file. If I do not hear it by half-past eleven I shall suppose
that you are posted somewhere else, but I shall listen three or four
nights before, and every night after that, at the same hour. I shall
not write again. It is better that we should not be noticed speaking
to each other, so pay no attention to me unless you have something
particular to say._
As he gave the paper to Hans, the latter slipped into his hand a small
tin oil-can, one of those used for oiling sewing-machines and bicycles,
and also a paper of tobacco. "If I am asked why I was speaking to you,"
Hans muttered, "I can say you asked me to buy you a quarter of a pound
of tobacco."
It was well the precaution had been taken, for a minute later one of
the other guards came up and asked roughly, "What did that man give
you?"
Yorke assumed a look of surprise, put his hand in his pocket, and took
out the little parcel.
"There it is," he said. "It is a quarter of a pound of tobacco. I asked
him to get the best he could buy. I hope that he has done so, but I
have not tried it."
He opened it carelessly, and the guard glanced at it, and then went
away satisfied with the explanation.
"It is just as well," Yorke said to himself, "that I told Hans not to
come near me again. Evidently that fellow had some sort of suspicion,
and must have seen him speak to me before, for there is nothing unusual
in the guard fetching us little things we want. There is certainly
nothing suspicious about Hans' appearance. He has evidently not washed
his face for days, and looks as dirty as any of them."
The time passed as usual till three days before the date appointed. For
four days Yorke had not seen Hans, who had been put on night guard.
Each evening he had gone to the door at eleven, and listened for half
an hour without hearing any sound. He had hidden away one of the
table-knives. On the Monday evening he heard, to his delight, a low
grating sound, and knocked gently three times to let Hans know that he
heard him. In half an hour he heard the bar cautiously removed, and
with his knife at once shot back the bolt and opened the door.
The night was pitch-dark, and after silently grasping his follower's
hand, Yorke went on to his hands and knees, and began to crawl down the
slope towards the palisade.
"Where are the sentries, Hans?" he asked, when they had nearly reached
it.
"There is one at each corner of the stand, and one on each side."
"I meant outside the wires."
"There are six or eight of them, and they keep on marching round and
round. When one of the field-cornets visited the sentries the other
night, he found three asleep. So the orders were that no one should
sit down or stand still, but keep on going round and round, keeping as
nearly as they could the same distance apart. But I don't see how we
are to get through the wires."
"I see my way as to that, Hans. Have you got the nippers?"
"Yes, Master Yorke, here they are."
"Now, don't say another word till we are outside, but just do as I tell
you."
Hans was well content with the order, for he had several times surveyed
the fencing, and could see no possibility of getting over without
not only being torn by the barbs, but also giving the alarm. He had,
however, not troubled himself very much about it, having implicit
confidence in Yorke. They came down upon the palisade about half-way
between two corners.
"Give me the rope, Hans," the latter whispered. He cut it in half, and
made a slip-knot at one end of each piece. Both had taken off their
boots before starting.
"Now," Yorke went on, when the two pieces of rope were ready, "do you
climb on to my shoulder and put these two loops round the top of one of
the stakes. Let one hang down on this side, and the other outside. When
you have fixed them, climb up and lower yourself by the rope to the
ground. Be sure you do not make any noise. As soon as you are over, I
will follow. You had better lie down as soon as you touch the ground."
As Hans was able to reach the top of the palisade from Yorke's
shoulders, he could carry out the order without noise. Yorke himself
then climbed up by the rope. He had rather doubted whether Hans would
be able to accomplish this, as, though strong, he was unaccustomed to
anything like athletic exercise. To Yorke, however, the matter was
easy. When he reached the other side, he lay down.
"Lie quiet till I tell you, Hans."
The nearest fence was six feet from the palisade. Finding one of the
posts, Yorke cut the lowest wire close to it. Then he cut it again
some four feet away from the post, and carefully dragged the severed
portions further along. He had thought that this would be the best
plan, as, if he tried to coil the wire up, it might spring back again
and strike one of the tins on the line above. These tins were for the
most part hung half-way between posts, as the vibration there would be
greatest.
When he had this done, he whispered to Hans: "There is room enough to
crawl under the wire now, but you must lie perfectly flat, or you will
be caught by the barbs. Push your hat through in front of you first. If
you should catch, don't try to move; you would set the tins ringing. I
will come and free you. But if you are careful, you ought to have no
trouble. I can get through easily enough."
The next line was five yards outside the inner one, and as soon as Hans
was through the first fence, Yorke proceeded to cut the lower wire as
before.
"Lie where you are till I have cleared the way through the outside
fence," he whispered to Hans. "Dark as it is, they might see us if
there were two of us together."
While the work was going on, the sentries had passed frequently. They
followed each other, however, at somewhat long intervals. As they
sauntered along slowly, smoking their pipes, and occasionally humming a
hymn tune, they kept some fifteen or twenty yards outside the boundary
fence, so as to be sure that in the dark they should not run against
it, and not only tear their clothes, but by shaking the tins give a
false alarm. To facilitate this, lanterns had been placed at this
distance away from each corner, so that as soon as they passed one they
could see the gleam of another and walk straight for it. Yorke waited
till two of the guard were about equally distant from where he was
lying before cutting the last wire, and was very careful in using a
steady pressure on the pliers, so as to prevent their closing in with a
click. This time, instead of risking the second cut, he crawled along
some little distance with the end, then he gave a low hiss, and Hans
was soon beside him.
"Now, Hans, we will go together. They certainly cannot see us here, so
we will crawl under this last wire, and then lie still till the next
guard passes. Wait till he has gone twenty yards, then stand up and
make a dash. Run as lightly as you can; but even if he hears us, we
shall be out of sight before he can unsling his rifle and fire."
Crawling under the wire, they remained as flat as possible on the
ground until the next sentry passed. They could scarcely make out the
outline of his figure. They waited till he had quite disappeared, then
Yorke pressed his follower's hand. They rose to their feet and quietly
made off. Their footsteps were almost inaudible, even to themselves, on
the sandy soil. As soon as they were past the line the sentries were
following they quickened their steps, and after going fifty yards broke
into a run. They were free now. There had been no challenge by the
guards on either side of them, no pause in the slow dull tread of their
heavy boots. They had run a hundred yards when Yorke said: "Now, which
way, Hans? Have you got a rifle for me?"
"Yes, master, I got two from a lot that were standing against the wall
of a drinking-shop while their owners were inside."
"What did you get two for, Hans? You brought your own out with you,
didn't you?"
"Yes, but Peter wanted one too."
"Peter!" Yorke repeated in surprise. "What Peter?"
"Long Peter, master."
"What! has he come with you?"
"Yes, it was he who came to me and said, 'You know the baas has been
taken prisoner?' I said, 'Yes, I heard it this morning.' 'Then,' he
said, 'we must go and get him out of the hands of the Boers.' I had not
thought of such a thing then; but, of course, I said I was ready. So I
went in and told the colonel I wanted to go, and he gave me leave. Then
I put on my farm clothes, and got yours from your room. Peter had said
that I had better ride, so I mounted my horse and came off."
"Where is he now, Hans?"
"He is at that little house about a quarter of a mile from the other
side of the race-course. It is empty, and he is there with your clothes
and the horse and some food. We must take a turn and go round there."
"It won't be easy to find it on such a dark night," Yorke said.
"We shall find it easily enough," Hans replied confidently. "Peter
pointed out to me that from the door the two lanterns on this side
were just in a line, so that when we came round, we should only have to
keep them so, and we should come straight to the house."
"The Kaffir is a sharp fellow as well as a faithful one," Yorke said.
"It is well we have a guide to the house, for otherwise we might have
searched about till daybreak. A horse would not matter so much, but
without the disguise I could not hope to get away."
In a few minutes they arrived at the house. A native was standing at
the door holding a horse.
"You are a first-rate fellow, Peter," Yorke said as he shook him warmly
by the hand, "a downright brick, to have made this long journey, and
run no end of risk to get me out. I am lucky indeed to have two such
friends as you and Hans."
"We could not stop there, baas, and know that you were in prison," the
native said simply. "Not very difficult to get here, for we travel
always at night. Which way shall we go now?"
"I have been thinking it over, and have decided that we had better go
down to Johannesburg. It is a large town, and people are sure to be
there from all parts, and we shall be less noticed. What do you think,
Hans?"
"That is what I have been thinking too, Master Yorke."
"Do you know how the road lies from here, Peter?"
"Yes, baas; we sweep round the town three or four miles, then come on
the road."
"Do you think you could find your way all right?"
"Quite sure to find it, baas; cloud clearing off, soon have stars come
out."
"Then we will start at once; we are not likely to meet anyone on the
road. If we keep on we shall be half-way there by daylight, we can then
decide what we shall do. Now, where are the things?"
"In this bundle, baas. I have them ready, because if I had heard shots
fired I should have run with the horse in that direction so as to meet
you."
Yorke did not wait to take off his uniform, but slipped the Boer
clothes over it.
"Now, where are the provisions?" he asked.
"In the bag behind the saddle," the Kaffir said. "Four blankets tied in
front, one for each of us and one for horse."
"That is right. We had better lead the horse for the next half-mile,
for on a still night like this they might hear the sound if we were to
trot. I don't say that they would give the alarm, as they could not say
who it was: but if they were to discover that we had gone they might
remember that they heard a horse, and so guess the line we had taken."
They went quietly along for a quarter of an hour, then Yorke said: "We
are far enough off now. I will mount here. When you are tired, Hans,
you can take my place and I will walk." But Hans laughed, "I can keep
on any time," he said, "but I will let you know if I am tired."
They proceeded slowly for the next half-hour, when, as the Kaffir had
predicted, the clouds cleared off and the stars came out.
"Now, we can go on fast, baas."
"Then you had better get up behind me, Hans, the horse must have had
little to do lately, and he can carry double very well; we shall thus
gain a lot of time, and he will have another rest at Johannesburg."
The Kaffir ran on lightly ahead, and at a trot the horse followed. In
half an hour they came on the road south, and maintaining the pace,
and breaking occasionally into a walk for a short distance, they kept
on till morning broke. It was half-past twelve when they started, and
by four they had done twenty-five miles and were within ten miles of
Johannesburg.
"I think we may as well push on to the town," Yorke said. "If we were
to leave the road and take to the veldt, people might notice us from
the farmhouses and wonder what we were doing there."
"I think so too, Master Yorke. I travelled by night coming here,
because the horse is too good for a rough Boer to be riding. I will
get off now and walk beside it, that will look natural enough. You are
a young Boer farmer and I am one of the farm hands, and you are going
to Johannesburg to buy things you want, and have brought one of your
Kaffirs to carry it back; no one would think twice about it."
"That will certainly be best, Hans; they cannot know yet that anything
is wrong at the prison, and the fact that the lower wires are cut
will not be noticed for some time later. I pulled up the rope inside
the inclosure and dropped it outside before I slid down, so the alarm
is not likely to be given until they go to open the door of my room.
We put the bar in its place when we closed it. At any rate, we may
calculate that it will be fully seven o'clock before the alarm is given
outside the prison. Even if they telegraph direct to Johannesburg to
keep a look-out for me, we should be in the town before the message
arrives. They will no doubt suspect that you were with me, for they
will see that the staple has been filed through on the outside, and
as you will be missing when they relieve the guard at six o'clock,
probably your description will be sent out with mine. When we get to
the town I will go in with Peter only; you had better not follow the
road, but go round and enter the town at some other point."
Hans agreed that that would be the best plan, and, dismounting and
taking hold of Yorke's stirrup-leather, trotted alongside. When within
two miles of Johannesburg they saw two mounted Boers coming along in
the distance, and at once broke into a walk. When they met the Boers
the latter were engaged in conversation, and paid no attention to the
party beyond returning Yorke's salutation. They met no one else until
within a quarter of a mile of the town. Hans here left the others.
Peter, who had hidden his rifle in his clothes since they had first
seen the two Boers approach them, now concealed it in a bush twenty
yards from the road. It would have been out of character altogether
for a native to carry arms in the Transvaal. Yorke rode on as soon
as this had been done. He found the principal streets comparatively
deserted. The greater portion of the stores were closed; many of these
had their doors open and broken, showing that forcible entry had been
made and their contents carried away. Some of the hotels were closed,
others were open; but the uncleaned windows and the general appearance
of untidiness showed that there were but few people staying there, and
that their owners kept them open as a matter of policy rather than of
gain. Yorke dismounted before a second-rate looking establishment,
Peter took the reins and led the horse into the yard. A Kaffir boy came
out from the stables.
"Put the horse in," Yorke, who followed, said, "I may be staying here
for a day or two."
After seeing this done he went into the house. "I want some breakfast,"
he said in Dutch to an untidy-looking German who sauntered into the
hall. "I shall want a bed to-night."
"All right!" the man said; "you can go upstairs and choose any room
you like, they are all empty. I suppose bacon and eggs will do for
breakfast? I have nothing else except canned meat."
"Bacon and eggs will do very well."
"They will be ready in a quarter of an hour," the man said.
"I have put my horse in the stable," Yorke went on. "Is there any news?"
"Yes, we have beaten Buller again. I suppose you have heard that?"
"No, our farm is out of the way of news. When was it?"
"On the 27th, at least that was the last of it. We were fighting for a
week, and they say that pretty near half of them were killed. They took
a strong hill called Spion Kop, but we drove them out again. Buller
has recrossed the Tugela, and I expect now that they will give up in
Ladysmith, as we know that they are starving, and there is no longer
any chance of Buller getting in. He must know that himself by this
time. It will be our turn next, and when Ladysmith surrenders we shall
chase Buller down to Durban."
By the tone in which the man spoke Yorke could see that he did not put
any very great faith in the story he was telling.
"That is good news," he said heartily. "I am sorry I was not down there
when the others went; I could not be spared at home. My mother is not
strong, and could not look after the Kaffirs and the cattle."
"You are out of luck," the man said.
"Well, I might have got shot, you know, if I had been there."
"Not much risk of that," the man replied, "for they say that the
Rooineks cannot shoot, and that we kill a hundred of them to every one
they hit."
"They must shoot badly indeed if that is the case."
"Well, I don't say it is so, but that is what they tell us; and as
Kruger says so, and the newspapers say so, of course we must believe
it. I don't trouble about it one way or the other. My boss went down
to Bloemfontein a month ago and left me here in charge. It is little
enough I have to do, for your people are not given much to pay for
liquor, especially when they can get as much as they like by breaking
open the door of a store, and it ain't once a week that a bed is
wanted. Still, if the place had been shut up, it would have been looted
like the rest of the empty houses. It is dull work enough, for there is
only myself and the Kaffir woman who cooks. Well, I had better go and
see about your breakfast."
While Yorke ate his breakfast the German, who was evidently glad to
have someone to talk to, sat down on a table and smoked.
"I suppose," he said, "you have come from somewhere near Heidelberg?"
"No," Yorke replied, "I have come from the south. I don't know whether
you know the country between the Klip River and Blesbok Spruit?"
"No, I have never been there."
"Ah, then, you would not know the farm! It is not very far from where
the two rivers fall into the Vaal, twenty miles or so below Heidelberg."
"I suppose your people are with the Heidelberg commando?"
Yorke nodded.
"Well, I don't know much about war," the German said, "for I slipped
away from home before my time came to join the army, and I am not
likely to return; but it certainly seems to me queer that, though it
is more than three months since the business began, you have not taken
either Ladysmith, Kimberley, or Mafeking yet; and yet your people made
sure that by this time they would be at Durban on one side, and Cape
Town on the other. It has been badly managed."
"Very badly managed," Yorke agreed. "If it had been left to Joubert
to do as he liked, things would have gone differently, but he was
interfered with by Kruger, and Steyn, and all Kruger's people here. I
was very sorry at first that I could not go with the others to Natal,
but I begin to think I am better off at home than they are. Besides,
after all it does not matter to me whether we drive the Rooineks out or
not. As far as I can see they have done no harm; we get a lot more for
our cattle now than we did before they came, and if they were all to
go, prices would fall again."
"You are right," the German said; "hotel-keeping would not be a paying
game with us if all the Uitlanders were driven out. So far, I reckon
that, what with the hotels and stores being closed and most of the
mines shut down, and almost all the men with money gone, this town is
millions of pounds poorer than it was last year. You seem a sensible
young fellow, but most of your people are so unreasonable that there
is no talking with them. They know very little themselves, and believe
everything that is told them. Of course we who live here are obliged to
seem to agree with them, but we don't at heart believe that things are
going to turn out as they fancy. They know nothing about England, and
we do. When I first left Germany I went there and learned my business
as a waiter in a hotel in London, and I know something about them, and
how they put down that great mutiny in India. I fancy it will be the
same thing here."
By this time Yorke had finished his breakfast, and, saying that he
might as well have a look round and see about getting the stores he
wanted, he took his hat, and telling the German that he would be in
about one o'clock to dinner, went out.