_THE BANK-NOTE._
"SLOW and steady" was assuredly the Boer's motto. The formal
leave-takings, the blessings and the charges delivered by Van Niepert
to every member of his daughter's family before he set a foot in the
stirrup, took up so much time that Jack grew tired of being alone. His
pop-gun was his first resource, but his ammunition was soon exhausted,
and Zyl did not appear to gather up the scattered peas; so he waited
until the scarred Kafir put in an appearance with his bowl of milk. Not
understanding what it was he wanted, she brought him his father's coat.
As she held it out to him, Jack saw for the first time that Vickel had
torn the lining.
He took it from her hand in much dismay, wondering whether he were man
enough to mend it. As he turned it over, a letter fell out from between
the cloth and the lining. It had never been opened; but it must have
been shaking about in the inside of the coat a long while, for the
edges of the envelope were worn through and let the contents fall out.
The letter was addressed to the "Rev. Astley Bourke," and that was all.
Jack unfolded the note, and found a flimsy piece of paper folded in it,
on which was printed, "Bank of England."
"Can this be a bank-note?" thought Jack, for he had seen one when his
father sold his wool. He felt now he was making a grand discovery, and
read the note very carefully.
"The Honourable Mrs. Featherstone presents her compliments to the
Rev. Astley Bourke, and in answer to his application encloses a bank-note
for £50.
"HAWKSWOOD HALL, NOTTINGHAM."
Of course it was the word Nottingham caught Jack's eye, for it made him
think of his grandfather. But he did not consider it wise to let the
Kafir see the bank-note, so he slipped it under his pillow until he was
left alone. But unfortunately Jack's precaution failed, for the Kafir
would not have known what it was if she had seen it, but Otto did; and
just as Jack had taken out the note and spread it before him on the
sheet to examine it more thoroughly, Tante Milligen, happening to meet
Otto, sent him to set Jack's mind at ease.
Walt had gone with his grandfather part of the way, so the German was
once again the only English-speaking individual on the farm.
As he poked his way into the loft to deliver Tante Milligen's message,
he caught sight of the note, and watched Jack slip it out of sight. He
said nothing, but "Bank of England," "fifty pounds," rang in his head
for days.
[Illustration: VICKEL AND HER MASTER.]
The German did not stay long. When Jack found himself alone once
more, he packed up his treasure very carefully, knotting it in the
handkerchief with Mr. Algarkirke's card and the sixpence the younger
Niepert had given to him.
"I must keep it very carefully till father comes back," he thought.
"I wonder whom it belongs to? Fifty pounds is such a lot of money;
wouldn't father be glad if it were his?" Then he turned over and tried
to sleep; but the responsibility of so large a sum of money under his
pillow would not let him rest.
The very wind seemed singing "the Rev. Astley Bourke." At last he sat
upright, and once more taking out his treasure, looked for the date.
He could read it clearly in the brilliant moonlight, and counting the
intervening months on his fingers, satisfied himself that the letter
was written nearly two years ago.
"How odd that Mr. Algarkirke never found it," reflected Jack, "for it
must have been in the lining of the coat all the while he had it. I
wonder where he is now. Father did not altogether like him; but he said
he could trust Van Immerseel, for he took such care of everything in
the waggon, all the more because father was a stranger to him, and I
must do the same."
After Jack had cleared up his mind and decided what he ought to do in
the matter, sleep became possible once more. He dreamed of running over
the sea with the bank-note in his hand, to ask his grandfather if the
Rev. Astley Bourke lived at Nottingham.
The next day Jack was dressed by the Kafir in the grotesque garments
the Black Antelope had found for him. Then she got him on her back and
carried him down the ladder into the sit-kamé, and laid him down on
Sannie's sheep-skin. He had found a bit of string in the loft, and tied
his treasures round his neck under the blouse.
Everybody came and looked at him, and spoke encouragingly in Dutch. But
he had nothing to do but to count the plum-stones in the floor and the
beams in the ceiling, for the other children were sent out of the way
to keep him quiet; but this did not last long.
Little Sannie was the first to make her way to him. She came waddling
in like a fat little duck, with both hands full of sweeties, which she
wanted him to share.
The next morning Zyl stood at the foot of the ladder with a look of
business about him, waiting for Jack's appearance. Jack was looking
much better and feeling stronger. He found he could dispense with the
old Kafir's services, and walked down the ladder himself.
Having at last got hold of Jack's hand, Zyl led him off in triumph to
the three-cornered seat in his own little garden. The grassy thatch
on the old umbrella had been well watered, thus adding a refreshing
coolness to the quiet nook. A pile of newly-cut sods were prepared for
a footstool, and a heap of juicy oranges for their mutual enjoyment.
A few such days brought back the colour to Jack's cheek, and the
sparkle of returning health to his hollow eyes. Then Zyl and Genderen
laid their heads together and evolved a grand scheme.
A little hand-carriage was constructed with Walt's help, very much
resembling a wash-trough on wheels. A pillow and an old cloak of Tante
Milligen's were placed in it, before Jack was asked if he would like a
drive.
Zyl was horse and Sannie driver, whilst Genderen walked sedately by its
side with a branch of a milk-bush in her hand, flicking away the flies
with its long waxen leaves.
"Ah! Neu yah trek!" shouted Zyl, and away they went towards the
sheep-kraals.
Now and then they stopped to rest, when Sannie played in the waving
tambouki grass, and gathered bunches of the yellow bitto flower and
bright bluebell; and Genderen pointed to the tiny black insects with
red stripes which made that bunch of yellow flowers their mimic city.
Then Zyl discovered a veritable ant-palace, out of which the valiant
inhabitants were marching to make war on their encroaching neighbours.
So eager was he to watch the pitched battle which ensued, that he
approached too near the insect squadron, and got a sting for his
temerity.
How odd it seemed not to be able to talk in the same language to each
other. Genderen, in her slow, quiet fashion, was trying to teach Jack
the Dutch names of the different things they passed, and to repeat
his English ones. Their mutual mistakes called forth such bursts of
laughter that there was no lack of fun amongst them. That was obviously
intelligible all round. Jack had recourse to pantomime, in which he
was growing very expert, imitating what he wanted to describe just as
children do in the game of "dumb actions."
Then Zyl once more began his shout of "Ah! Neu yah trek!" And the
little cavalcade again set forward, until they came in sight of Otto's
hut and the vast multitude of sheep dotting the red karroo.
As they drew nearer, the shepherd's dogs came leaping and bounding
towards them with short, joyous barks of welcome.
Zyl was for harnessing them to Jack's car, and rushed off to borrow
a rope of Otto. But Genderen shook her head, and reminded him they
were to rest in the shepherd's hut, where a basket of fruit and
roaster-cakes would be waiting for them.
Otto himself came trotting up on his shaggy pony. He had locked the
door of his hut when he left it in the morning; but the basket Genderen
expected to find had been duly left on the step by one of the Kafir
boys. The German pressed them to enter, and lifted Jack out of his
carriage.
The hut was built of wattle and clay, with a fireplace and one window.
Jack was eager to go in, for he thought perhaps his father could build
them such another; it could not cost anything so much as their house
which was burned down.
Genderen began to unpack the basket, and spread its contents on Otto's
little table. As a matter of course, he was invited to take his share.
But to find seats for so large a party was more than he knew how to
manage, seeing he could boast of but one chair, and that he offered to
Genderen. He had no bedstead, but a sort of hammock swung across the
end of the hut. He began to clear the top of his box, which usually
served him as a side-table.
Jack suddenly stepped forward, for there lay his lost knife.
"Please, Mr. Otto," he began.
But the German turned to him with a frown. "I'll have no meddling with
my things," he answered in a threatening tone.
Jack was silent; he saw it was useless to remonstrate, for the German
would give his own version to Van Immerseel.
"And, I am sure," thought Jack, "a man who would take my knife would
not be above telling a lie; and I could not explain to anybody it was
mine any more than I could about the poor Black Antelope."
Still Jack had one more question he wanted to ask the shepherd, so he
said quickly, "We are not going to meddle with any of your things, Mr.
Otto," with an emphasis on the "your" that made the German bristle all
over like a porcupine setting up its quills.
But he was a little disarmed when Jack continued undismayed, "But
please, Mr. Otto, can you tell me when the schoolmaster will come
again?"
This was a vital question for Jack, and he waited breathlessly for the
answer. But Otto either could not or would not tell him.
After a while Zyl set up his unearthly shout of, "Ah! Neu yah trek!"
and although Otto flatly refused to let his dogs be transferred into
post-horses, the return journey was as blithe as the outgoing.
Of course, the dogs obeyed their master's whistle, and accompanied
him until they had a good view of the sheep. Perceiving that their
customary charges were all right, and that nothing particular was
required of them, they rushed back to the children with one accord,
feeling themselves in duty bound to see their young friends well on
their homeward way. Up they came, with their curly ears well back and
their bushy tails wagging with delight. Their eyes were bright with the
pleasure of stolen liberty, as they bounded round the children, saying
as plainly as dogs always can to those who try to understand them, "We
know we shall catch it if we are caught, but we'll risk it just this
once for you, you dears."
Then hands were licked and shaggy heads were fondled, and hairy
and rosy lips exchanged their mutual kisses, Jack at last becoming
emboldened to take his share in this overflow of caressing love.
Suddenly the oldest of these curly guards laid his keen head to the
ground, and catching the echo of a far-off whistle, gave a look to his
companions. Away they flew, raising a cloud of sand behind them, and
leaving the children breathless with laughter.
The next day they made an excursion in an opposite direction, towards
the rocks. All thought of danger from the free Kafirs was now set at
rest.
"It was proved the thieves had come from civilized, not from savage
life. More shame to them!" thought Jack. "If I had only been big enough
to shoulder a rifle behind father, we should have been a match for
them. Next time we'll see."
Away he walked, resolved to try his strength and make Sannie ride. By
dint of persistency he carried his point, but was glad to compromise
the matter and make frequent exchanges, which Genderen approved,
observing, "Des is wohl" (that is well), as she felt proud of the
success of their experiment, for Jack was getting well now as fast as
he could.
They ate their fruit and cakes in what the Dutch children called a
"kloof,"—that is, a narrow cleft in the nearest mass of rock, down
which in time of rain a dashing cataract thundered, fed by a mountain
stream. But the burning sunshine of that African summer had dried-up
the fall to a few trickling drops.
A deep indented line of whitening sand divided the bottom of the
valley. High overhead the precipitous rocks arose like the walls of a
giant stronghold; and the tiny water-drops which oozed so slowly from
their fractured sides fell with a musical sound on the smooth, flat
stones at their feet—stones which had been polished to their present
smoothness by the drip of ages. In this cool retreat, beneath the
grateful shadow of the rocks, there grew a quivering tree. There was
no one to tell Jack its nature or its name, but he gazed upon it in
an ecstasy of delight and wonder. Lower down the bank of the dried-up
stream a clump of young mimosas gave shelter to a covey of wild
guinea-fowl.
As the children advanced, running and shouting to each other in their
glee, the shy and timid guinea-chicks were frightened, and rising from
the flat-crowned bushes, took their flight to the safer shelter of the
rocks.
Off went Genderen and Zyl on the quest for eggs, creeping on their
hands and knees where the tangle of underwood would have barred their
progress. To such bird-nesting Jack had been a stranger; but after
Genderen had shown him the first nest she had discovered, with its
circle of dark pointed eggs, he comprehended their object and joined
in the eager pursuit. Sannie was left to enjoy a nap in the little
carriage, which they had drawn up beneath the shadow of the quivering
tree.
Again and again Jack put his hand to his breast to be sure that weighty
responsibility, the Bank of England note, was safe in his handkerchief.
He was growing tired with the scrambling and the scratches, so he went
back to the sleeping Sannie, and gathering a handful of rushes which
grew upon the margin of the dried-up stream, plaited them into a small
flat basket, just big enough to hold his treasure. He sewed the top
together with a long and flexible rush, so that no one could catch a
glimpse of even the white handkerchief, in which the letter and its
important contents were wrapped up. Then he tied it round his neck once
more, and satisfied at last that he had made it really safe, lay down
by Sannie to rest. He had no idea that the little snoring bundle had
slept with one eye open, and was very curious as to his proceedings,
until she stretched out both her fat baby hands and pulled his shirt,
inquiring with an infantine lisp that was almost irresistible to Jack,
"Was is das?"
He took her on his knee, and with the remains of the rushes wove her a
basket for her very own.
In that cool retreat the summer hours flew swiftly by, and the children
never thought of returning; for Genderen had found a nest of tiny
guinea-chicks, and Zyl had lined the empty luncheon-basket with soft
dry grass to receive them. Genderen placed them in it with a careful
hand, delighted with the prospect of carrying home so excellent a find.
As she extricated herself from the thicket, she saw a little bit of a
scarlet blanket clinging to a mimosa leaf. A sudden thought struck her.
She turned back, parted the branches, and looked eagerly between them.
She saw a heap of gathered grass, crushed and pressed, as if it had
been the sleeping-place of some wild animal. Genderen brushed her hand
across her eyes, and stooping down, picked up a brass-headed pin she
herself had given to the poor Black Antelope.
Here, then, was her retreat. Could she be hiding here still?
"No; she was on her way to her own country," persisted Zyl; "but they
could not leave the kloof without a search."
Up and down the dried-up bed of the watercourse, on to every accessible
ledge to be discovered on its rocky sides, went Zyl, prodding with a
broken branch from the quivering tree into every hole and crevice,
where it was possible and even where it was not possible for their
hare-like friend to hide; but all in vain. The cold, hard rocks only
echoed back the much loved name Zyl persisted in shouting at the very
top of his voice.
"It is of no use," said Genderen sorrowfully. "When we get home, father
will send the men with the dogs, and perhaps they will hurt her."
"They must bring me back with them," interposed Zyl, "to show them
where she slept. Mind you don't describe it so that they can find it
without me, Gen; and if they flog her, they will have to flog me first,
that's all."
Having reached this decision, they ran across to Jack, who recognized
the bit of scarlet blanket and the brass pin in a minute. He had felt
too weak to take part in the search, but shared their grief at its
failure. Zyl pointed out one source of comfort: poor Blackie would
not starve with guinea-fowls' eggs to suck and the pure rock-water to
drink. This was their consolation.
Zyl insisted upon Jack riding home, although Jack was sure Sannie could
not walk so far; but there were the eggs to be conveyed, and Sannie
might break them. Zyl was dogged, so Jack gave in and let Zyl tuck him
up in his carriage. Then the Dutch boy brought an armful of grass,
which he kneaded into a sort of nest on Jack's lap, and in this the
eggs were piled. Genderen placed her precious basket of living chicks
in his right hand, for she had a heavier task to perform in carrying
Sannie.
Under such circumstances, their progress was of the slowest; and before
they had progressed half a mile, they encountered Otto, who had come in
search of them.
He had gone up to the house by chance, and finding Tante Milligen in
a state of great anxiety because the children had not returned, he
volunteered to ride round and look for them. He took up Genderen behind
him and Sannie before him; but he left the boys to their own devices,
knowing well that no power on earth could make Zyl quicken his pace and
risk his eggs.
Sannie was delighted to find herself on the neck of Otto's horse, with
his arm round her waist, holding her safe and fast. So she chattered on
in her innocent way, half to herself and half to him. He was thinking
more of Genderen's heavy sighs (for he knew she was dreading her
mother's anger) than of Sannie's prattle, until she asked him to give
her letters and paper to put in her basket like those Jack Treby kept
in his. Then he lent a very earnest ear, asking her many questions.