_JACK'S FEVER._
THE herbal tea Tante Milligen had provided for the little invalid
cooled the fever in his veins. When the morning came Jack was sleeping
heavily.
But his father could no longer watch beside him. He was obliged to
return to his own farm to meet the police, who were expected to arrive
that day. He was quite sure that a sufficient party of mounted police
would be told off for the defence of the district directly Wilton's
report reached head-quarters.
The affair would be investigated; a repetition guarded against; but
should he see his sheep again? Mr. Treby's heart failed him there. He
knew it was wiser to leave the burning ashes of his house untouched
until the police had been. He wanted to bring back Tottie to nurse his
Jack now her husband had returned. But Tante Milligen said "No;" she
had Hottentots enough in the house already. She did not want one that
had been spoiled by these English to come there to upset her girls. The
poor child should not want for proper care; she would see to that.
The Boeress was in anything but a happy frame of mind; for the Kafir
girl had run away in the night, and Tante Milligen declared she had
lost her right hand.
In circumstances like his, Mr. Treby could say no more. He knew he
ought to feel very grateful to his Dutch neighbours for their rough and
ready hospitality, and he could not endure the thought of encroaching
on their kindness.
But he could not leave his boy without a word. Everything was ready for
his departure, when at last Jack opened his eyes, half-frightened at
his strange surroundings. But the delirious fancies of the night were
over, although he felt weak and faint.
Mr. Treby began to hope it was but a slight attack of fever, and that
with quiet and care he would soon be better. He was afraid to let Jack
talk even about Zyl's garden, or what a naughty bird Vickel had been;
and would not let him fret over the poor Black Antelope, assuring him
the Boer's anger was soon over, and he had asked her master not to
punish her any more.
So with a parting kiss, and a promise to come back as soon as he could,
he left his boy once more.
He had not seen Algarkirke that morning, for the schoolmaster had
fallen asleep in the garden, under the shadow of Zyl's pent-house,
which had been constructed out of the remains of his own broken
umbrella—a gift he had bestowed upon the ungovernable urchin to bribe
him to sit still during his first attempt at teaching, which he was so
terribly afraid would be construed into failure.
With a few forcible words about redeeming the time, Tante Milligen
hunted him out of his retreat, ignoring the fact that he had omitted to
put in an appearance at their early Dutch breakfast.
"That was his own lookout," she said; so Genderen was ordered to place
the books on the table.
Every now and then Tante Milligen put her head in at the door of the
sit-kamé, churn-stick in hand, "just to keep 'em at it; for they
couldn't afford to pay their money for nothing."
The poor tutor, who was all the worse for his night-watch, yawned
in sympathy with his scholars. Mr. Treby had set the door of Jack's
room wide open, to give him all the air he could. When Sannie caught
sight of his curly head among the pillows, she slid off her chair, and
gathering the letters he had cut out for her in her lap, she trotted
to his bed. She waddled round the slaap-kamé like a little duck, until
she came to the head of the bed where Jack was lying. There was a pout
on the rosy lips, and recent ominous catch in her breath, suggestive
of distress; for Sannie, like her mother, was sorely distressed at
the disappearance of the Black Antelope, who had fondled her from her
birth. One little fat hand unclosed and displayed a bit of a dirty
card; then the precious letters in her lap were spread out before him,
intimating the young lady's desire to repeat the pleasure of yesterday.
Jack thought of his knife, and sprang out of bed to search for it.
He shook his pockets inside out, but oh! His knife was nowhere to be
found. He put his hand to his head to try to think. Yes, he remembered
distinctly. He was sure now that German shepherd had picked it up.
Sannie was frightened when she saw him crawling under the bed, for
he thought he would look everywhere about the floor; so she set up a
cry, which brought the old Hottentot woman to see what was the matter.
Without more ado, she drove out Sannie, seized Jack by the arms and put
him back into bed, charging him with imperative gestures to keep there.
Tante Milligen followed with some more of that odious herbal tea, which
she compelled him to drink. Then mistress and maid stood over him in
earnest consultation. A huge pair of scissors was produced from Tante
Milligen's capacious pocket. He hoped she was not going to cut off his
head, and felt enormously relieved when he found it was only his hair
she wanted. He wondered what she could want it for. Oh, it was wretched
to be with people who could not understand a single word. Yet he almost
laughed when he saw the shrivelled yellow fingers of the Hottentot
sweeping away his curls with evident satisfaction.
"They would stuff a good pin-cushion," he thought.
But they left the heap on the floor, and covered his head with a
cabbage-leaf. It seemed so ridiculous, but he was obliged to submit.
Then the room was darkened, and the heavy curtains of the bed were
closely drawn, and he heard the door shut as they went away. He thought
he was suffocating, but at length the darkness and the quiet melted
into dreamy sleep. By-and-by they brought him some brandy-posset, which
he could not drink. In that darkened room the day seemed like night. No
one came near him but Tante Milligen, with the cow's horn in her hand;
and in spite of his wry faces, she always contrived to get the thin end
of the horn between his teeth, and then there was nothing for it but to
gulp down the bitter draught it contained as quickly as he could.
Jack believed he had had seven nights already, and yet his father did
not come. Algarkirke strolled in at last, with his pipe in his mouth,
and roundly asserted there had been no night at all yet, although he
hoped one was coming.
Then Jack unfolded his idea about the pin-cushions, and confided to
the schoolmaster how much he would like do the stuffing. "It is my own
hair, so they might let me," he added, a little annoyed by the laugh
with which this suggestion was received. Then he remembered his knife,
and entreated Mr. Algarkirke to look for it in the sit-kamé. "I know,"
he persisted, "that German picked it up; but where could he put it?"
Algarkirke promised to tell Zyl, and persuade him to undertake the
search. But his promise was of the pie-crust order, made to be broken.
He wished to pacify the sick child, but, pitying the poor Black
Antelope, he did not wish to cast a suspicion on any one else. He
seemed sensitive on the subject, and shrank from it, even with Jack; so
he did not mention the knife to any one.
Mr. Algarkirke was soon superseded by the Hottentot, who sat down on
the foot of the bed and stared at Jack, who shut his eyes so that he
should not see her. Then he seemed to feel all round him the flames of
his burning home; and yet it was not his Tottie crawling out of the
sloot, but the ugly face of this stranger Hottentot that was staring at
him between the curtains of the bed.
To all his feverish mutterings she responded with a "Jah! Jah!" which
sounded more like the cluck of a hen than a woman's voice. But she gave
him mutton-broth and grapes, and forced him to lie still; for Jack had
an unconquerable longing to get up and walk about. He told her again
and again he must go and meet his father, but he might as well have
spoken to a post.
One thing he was truly grateful for. The Hottentot armed herself with a
long bough, and every now and then set vigorously to work to drive away
the flies, which had teased him so the night before. Yet the sleep he
longed for refused to come, until he heard the lowing of the cows as
they were driven in for milking, and then the wakefulness of the night
was exchanged for a drowsy stupor, which lasted through the glaring
noonday heat.
"They have made me a bed in the oven," moaned Jack, when the
schoolmaster looked in on the third day to bid him "good-bye."
"I shall send the coat," he said; "I hope it will fit your father. I
shall miss your little English face when I come to Jaarsveldt next
time, for I suppose then you will be sifting diamonds at Kimberley. You
must learn a little of their wonderful Dutch patience from your new
friends. I hope your father will come back before I start."
But the young Englishman's wish was not gratified. Mr. Treby did not
return until the next morning.
At the sight of his father, Jack revived. The fever had turned at the
third day, and Jack began to rally. Mr. Treby's gratitude to the worthy
"tante" for her motherly care knew no bounds. She had saved his child.
But when he talked of taking him away, Van Immerseel laid his great
hand on his arm and shook the other in his face, with a good-natured
laugh, which tempered a flat refusal.
Tante Milligen summoned her ancient Hottentot, and five black faces
appeared above the half-door of the sit-kamé to back her protestation
and convince the anxious father he must leave his child where he was or
a relapse was certain.
"What do they all mean?" asked Mr. Treby, turning for enlightenment to
the German, who had been summoned by Zyl to speak the decisive word.
But Walt pressed before him. He had brought the Englishman home. He had
taken to Jack. Algarkirke had repeated to him many more details about
the fire, which he had gathered from Mr. Treby's conversation in the
night. He knew now that poor little Jack had been barely rescued from
the flames.
During the schoolmaster's three days' sojourn at Jaarsveldt, Walt
had been picking up English as diligently as the players on old Tom
Tiddler's ground are reported to pick up gold and silver.
He pointed to the door of the slaap-kaamé where Jack was lying, and
asserted most energetically: "Your boy there very bad boy. We make a
full stop of him. All right. You put him in there," he added, pointing
to Mr. Treby's waggon, which was drawn up outside the gate. "Wohl—"
Alas! His English was exhausted; he rubbed his head, imitated the
jog-trot of the oxen, and the jolting and shaking of the lumbering
waggon.
Dead set at last for want of a word, which Otto could not or would
not supply, he snatched the stick from his brother's hand, and drew
the outline of a coffin-lid upon the clayey floor. It was but a lame
attempt at speaking English, yet for all that he had made his meaning
forcible and plain "Take him away?" he asked, making an impressive
pause, then by way of answer to his own inquiry, he pointed to his
mother and her coloured maids, as if he were counting them on his
fingers. Mr. Treby was almost deafened by the babel of tongues around
him, whilst Otto fairly laughed when Walt interpreted this clamour of
female tongues as "One big no."
Mr. Treby brushed a tear-drop from his eye and shook hands all round.
So it was settled that Jack must be left behind. His father's heart was
touched by the rough kindliness of his Dutch neighbours.
The loft over the end of the house to the farm-yard happened just now
to be empty. Van Immerseel kept his wool there. He had sold it all out,
so that the loft would not be wanted until the next sheep-shearing; and
Walt suggested that Mr. Treby's things would be quite safe in there
until his return. For of course he must unload his waggon before he
could let it to his neighbour at Scarsdorp.
He had raked out a few things from the ashes the day before—pieces of
iron, hooks, and hinges; the lump of lead into which his bullets had
melted; and more than all, the blackened and misshapen contents of
his purse. Would his money pass? He could hardly tell. There were two
sovereigns sticking together, and the smaller silver pieces had run
into a shapeless lump; but the half-crowns, being more solid, were less
injured.
Zyl came to help him to unload, whilst Sannie sat at the foot of the
wooden ladder watching their proceedings. There was no time to be
lost, for Mr. Treby knew that his thirteen oxen would be longer on the
road than when he had fourteen, and he wanted to leave everything as
straight as he could for Seco and Tottie. But the thought of parting
from his little Jack weighed heavily on his heart, for he could not
tell how long he should be gone. Vickel, in her joy at having her
master back again, insisted on perching on his shoulder, and pecking
from his hand, much to Zyl's amusement.
Whilst they were still busy packing in the loft, a messenger arrived
from Scarsdorp with the final order for Mr. Treby. He must be ready
with his waggon in the morning, when the bearer of the message would
return with him.
"That is a fine bird of yours, master," laughed the man, as Vickel
saluted him with her loudest scream, "and a valuable one. Nothing so
quick as an ostrich to detect a stranger's presence. Why, she will be
worth twenty pounds of anybody's money when she begins to lay. A brood
of chicks like herself will prove a little fortune. They would be worth
ten pounds each as soon as they are out of the shell."
"You think so?" cried Mr. Treby, brightening. "I do not know much about
ostrich management. I brought this one up to be a guard about the
place. She has cost me nothing, for she lives on the wild rosemary and
scrubby grass that the sheep won't eat. If it had not been for my boy,
I believe I should sold her for a very small sum in my strait."
"Sell her," exclaimed the messenger, "with ostrich feathers selling at
£23 the pound, and she just coming into profit! No, no."
Mr. Treby stroked the fond bird's satin breast as he made her dismount.
Could it indeed be true? He thought of the summer morning when one
of the wild-looking Kafirs, who were helping him to reap his little
wheat-field, had found the ostrich's nest, and had given one of the
chicks to Jack for a pet and plaything. Well, he intent upon his sheep
had not thought much about her value certainly. He thanked the man for
his advice, feeling as if all unawares, he had put his foot on the
first step of the ascending ladder of fortune.
"That is news for Jack," he thought, casting a critical glance over his
tall favourite, who was now enjoying herself picking a bone like a dog.
The bird had wonderfully improved. It was Genderen's bowl of barley
night and morning which had wrought the change, but Mr. Treby knew
nothing about that. He concluded Vickel got her own living here as she
did at home, browsing on the sandy veldt, or he would not have left her
at Jaarsveldt.
"Come, Jack," he said, when he told his boy of his intended departure.
"Your feathered queen is to make our fortune, according to this man's
talk. So it may be a providential thing this illness of yours. It is
forcing me to leave you behind, and I should not wonder if you learn
a good deal about ostrich management from the Immerseels by the time
I come back. They say we might have cut Vickel's feathers this very
summer, if they had not been scorched."
It was worth something to bring the sparkle of happiness back into the
boy's sunken eyes, as he listened to the comforting assurance that to
part with Vickel would be like selling the goose which laid the golden
eggs.
"I tell you what, Jack," continued his father; "when we come back from
Kimberley, we must buy her a mate of Van Immerseel. They might pay
better than the sheep."
Whilst Mr. Treby was thus endeavouring to soothe and cheer the feverish
child, he heard an unusual bustle, and looking out of the window, saw
three horsemen fully armed, and covered with the summer dust, ride in
at the gate. Their strong young horses were flecked with foam, as if
they had been travelling fast and far. Van Immerseel's hand was on the
bridle of the foremost of the three, an aged Boer, with hair like snow
and a frame of iron. They were talking eagerly.
Out ran Mr. Treby, expecting to hear of some fresh outrage that would
cap his own, but the few words which caught his ear convinced him
that the firing of his lonely homestead was the sole subject of their
earnest discussion.
"Ah! Here he comes," exclaimed the old man, who could speak English
fairly well. "Ik Van Niepert," he continued, stretching out a hand to
Mr. Treby that was the masculine counterpart of Tante Milligen's own.
The Englishman felt as if his fingers would be crushed in the hearty
hand-grip which ensued.
"The scare has spread, as these Kafir scares always do, like wildfire.
It reached us last night. Farm-house in flames—Jaarsveldt for a
certainty, as we all thought. So, as I have been telling my son-in-law
here," (and the big hand came down with a slap on Van Immerseel's
shoulder which would have made Mr. Treby reel), "with that fear in our
heads, it was not long before the rifles were loaded and the horses
saddled, and on we've pushed; and I could have sworn we heard the thud
of the bullets as we drew near. Thought you were having to fight off
the black beggars, as I've done many a time when Milligen was a lass at
home."
Van Niepert's sons, two powerful-looking men, with slow tongues and
stolid countenances, confirmed their father's words with an assenting
grunt, as they dismounted, leaned their saddles against the wall of the
house, and turned their horses loose in the yard.
Out ran the children to welcome their grandfather and uncles, with
noisy joy, whilst Mr. Treby was explaining the real facts of the
case as briefly and clearly as he could. He had heard of Van Niepert
as a leading man among the Boers, whose word had had great weight
in the conferences between these old Dutch settlers and the British
Government, and that he had tried to maintain the friendly relations
between them.