_OTTO THE SHEPHERD._
ZYL drove home his load in safety, but he thought it prudent to stop
at one of the Kafirs' huts. Here he left Genderen's chicks in charge,
and sent up his glorious find of eggs to the farm-house. Then he
took fast hold of Jack's hand, and led him round by the back of the
farm-buildings until they reached the foot of the ladder leading to
the wool-loft. Jack did not often now resist his good-natured but
self-willed friend. He had taken a leaf from Genderen's tactics, so
they got on together admirably. Zyl insisted upon undressing him and
putting him to bed. Jack could guess the reason why. Zyl meant to take
the whole of the blame and its consequences upon his own shoulders.
Jack looked round the sloping roof and white-washed wall of his
loft, with a sort of home-feeling he had never experienced before at
Jaarsveldt, when it suddenly struck him it was looking more untidy than
usual. Yes, he was certain all the things his father had packed up so
neatly under the slope of the roof had been pulled about. Who could
have done it? The loft had not been cleaned, for the floor was littered
all over. He was too hungry to sleep and too anxious to know what sort
of reception Zyl had met with, to rest anywhere.
Then he heard a noise as of horses' feet, and jumping up in bed saw the
"oom" himself, on his great black horse, with Zyl behind him, and Walt
on his fastest hunter at his side, with all the dogs and four or five
of the Hottentots, starting for the rocks—in search of the poor Black
Antelope, he could not doubt. Jack's heart ached for her; and he lay
down and covered his face, thinking what it must be to wander forlorn
and homeless in these wilds.
In a little while the ugly Kafir brought him a calabash of ox-tail
soup, and after that he sank into the sound sleep of healthy childhood.
Nothing less than two awkward hands pulling at the collar of his shirt
would have wakened him that night. But there they were. He felt the
knuckles pressing on his throat, and almost thought it was a dream.
He put up his own to push them away, and took hold of real hands—the
rough, strong hands of a man clutching at his treasure. He was wide
awake in an instant, fighting them off. Something was over his eyes.
He struggled hard, and freed himself for a moment. He felt a man's
hot breath upon his cheek, and screamed out with all his might as he
recognized the face of the German shepherd.
Would anybody come to his help? Could he even make himself heard in the
dead of night? He remembered Van Immerseel and his sons were away. Yes,
their absence had given Otto his opportunity. Jack saw it all, and grew
cold with fear as he felt himself powerless in Otto's grasp. Then came
the thought,—
"God sees, and he is ever more ready to help than we to ask."
But thought itself soon became impossible, for Otto was cramming the
corner of the pillow into his mouth to stifle his cries. Jack tried
hard to throw himself on his face. Somehow he managed to get the
precious letter under him, and not all Otto's blows or low-voiced
menaces could make him stir from this position.
Vickel, who was roosting, as usual, at the foot of Jack's ladder, had
lifted a sleepy head when Otto passed her; but as she was now familiar
with every one about the farm, she let him go up the ladder un-molested.
Jack's scream aroused her vigilance, and two bright eyes were watching
every movement; for Vickel was quite tall enough, when she drew herself
to her full height, to peep in at the door of the loft, which Otto had
left wide open to gain light enough for his search. She could not see
Jack, who had rolled himself in the bed-clothes, until Otto lifted him
by main force from the pillow to which he still clung. Then Vickel
sprang upon the ladder with a cry of mingled love and rage, and struck
the intruder so fierce a blow with her closed beak that it sent him
headlong on the floor. Before he had time to recover his feet she
seized him by the leg with beak and claw, and dragged him out of the
loft.
"Call her off! Call her off! Or she'll kill me," roared Otto as she
once more lifted her formidable talon, ready to gore his flesh from the
bones.
When Jack, as white as ashes, and with scarcely voice enough to make
himself heard, called, "Vic, Vic, Vic!" just as he had called her at
feeding-time all her life. He snatched up some of the peas which were
lying by his pop-gun and flung them towards her. With the beautiful
docility of an ostrich, she turned and dropped her foe. The angry eyes
grew eloquent with love, and the beak that was dealing death to Otto
was stooped obediently to peck the peas in Jack's trembling hand. He
leaned against her faithful breast, for the loft swam round, and he
thought he must have fallen. But with the comprehension love alone can
lend, Vickel spread her feathery shield above his head, and drawing him
to her, brooded over him as a hen broods over her chicks.
Jack peeped between the soft gray plumes of her sheltering wings, for
he heard Otto groan, and now he saw him, a dark heap at the foot of the
ladder. He had been stunned by his fall; but he soon began to move and
mutter threats of vengeance on Jack and his ostrich.
"It was your own fault, Mr. Otto," said Jack firmly. "What did you come
here for to pull me out of bed in the middle of the night? Vickel would
have killed you if I had not stopped her. You know that as well as I
do."
The German got up stiffly. "You made me cross," he grumbled. "You
snored like a pig, and you would not answer me. I came to fetch that
bank-note. It is not safe for a child like you to carry so much money
about with you. Come, hand it down, or you'll be robbed and murdered
some of these days with all those coloured fellows about. If I have
given you a fright, it was to show you your danger."
"Oh indeed, Mr. Otto," retorted Jack with a laugh. "I have no need to
be afraid of anybody. You see what good care my ostrich takes of me.
You had better talk about this to my father. I daresay he will be home
in the morning."
Jack's words were brave and bold, for he looked upon Otto as a beaten
enemy. The German said no more, for Vickel made an angry dart at his
uncovered head, and in his terror at the thought of a second attack, he
turned and fled away as fast as his hurt leg would permit.
Jack lay cuddled by his darling Vic until the strange coldness had
passed over, and his manful little heart had ceased to beat so wildly.
The glorious brightness of the moonlight had given place to a chill
creeping mist. It was the dreariest hour of all the night, but it
was bringing back the day. After a while the mist began to lift, and
the morning sun arose in all its splendour. Then Jack knelt down
by Vickel's side, and clasping his hands together, poured out the
fulness of his heart in prayer. The joy of his thanksgiving for his
hair's-breadth escape, and the earnest cry for help and guidance,
scarcely found utterance in words, for blinding, choking tears came at
last to his relief.
The broken words, the gasping sobs, touched the heart of the Kafir
groom, who had risen at daybreak expecting his master's return. As
soon as the humming, droning song of the black dairymaid announced her
presence among the milk-pails, he went across and told her "that poor
lamb without a mother" was very sore at heart—wailing over the fate of
the Black Antelope, he doubted not, for the white lamb from the fold
was much loved by the dark hind from the upper veldt, as they both knew.
Then the dairymaid came and listened, and picked up a man's hat at the
foot of the ladder. Gorya the groom took it and hid it in the back of
his stable with a grin. He knew the owner of the hat at a glance, and
muttered to himself, "What's he been up to here?"
Much pleased with Jack's sympathy for their fellow-countrywoman (for
they both knew well how earnestly he had pleaded for her on the night
of her offence), the two Kafirs would have gone to him at once but for
Vickel's menacing glances, for she had settled herself in the doorway,
and refused to stir for any one.
When Jack found the farm-servants were about, his spirits returned, and
he began to think over his night's adventure. How was he to explain
what had happened to the Immerseels? In truth, he dare not say a single
word to any one of them, for he could not make them understand, and
then they would send for Otto to tell them what he was saying.
"Yes," thought Jack, "Mr. Otto sees this just as clearly as I do, and
so he thinks he can do as he likes, as much wrong as he likes, and
carry all before him with a high hand; but he cannot deceive me. He is
a bad man. He came to steal this bank-note; I'm sure he did."
Jack's reflections were cut short by the sound of horses' feet, and
looking out of the door of his loft, he saw the "oom" ride in, with Zyl
behind him. He watched the party dismount, but the Black Antelope was
not with them. To make quite sure that he was not mistaken, Jack ran
down his ladder and seized his friend by both hands, looking earnestly
in his face. Zyl knew well enough what he wanted to ask, and replied
to him and to Genderen, who was signalling the same inquiry from the
window of her slaap-kamé, with a shake of his head, repeating the
pathetic Dutch word "verloren" (lost).
Genderen burst into tears. She did not appear at the early breakfast
prepared for the search-party.
Jack went indoors with his friend, and breakfasted on mutton-chops,
listening attentively to the conversation, and gathering its sense more
from tone and gesture than from actual words.
Yes, the search had been fruitless. Zyl was sent off to bed, grumbling
and weary. Feeling himself safe indoors, with the "oom" nodding in
his huge arm-chair just opposite, Jack coiled himself up on Sannie's
sheep-skin, and was soon asleep. He was wakened by the sound of Tante
Milligen's voice, and a very solemn voice it was. He looked up and
saw her standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen, with all her
maids gathered round her, listening open-mouthed whilst she narrated
something which had happened to herself in the night.
Jack caught the words "Das ein nacht" (this very night), and was up in
a moment. Had Tante Milligen sent Mr. Otto after all? Jack had become
very skilful at pantomime by this time, so he ran up to her and asked,
by looking very earnestly in her face and taking hold of her hand, if
she wanted him? Tante Milligen shook her head.
"Das ein nacht," repeated Jack.
She held up her hands and turned to her eager, interested auditors,
who echoed back their mistress's exclamation, each in her own peculiar
fashion.
The truth was Tante Milligen had heard a noise in the night—a noise
like thunder, she averred. It was just as if a heavy weight had been
thrown down suddenly over her head. Like most of the females among the
Dutch Boers, Tante Milligen, although a brave woman, was fearfully
superstitious. A noise outside the house would not have frightened her
half so much, even if it had proved to be another Kafir scare. But this
mysterious noise inside the house, what could it mean?
When Jack came up to her with the traces of the night's excitement
still visible in his pale cheeks and circled eyes, she only thought
he had heard it too, and of course any child must be frightened. She
was pleased that it confirmed her own experience, for one of those
shameless Hottentots had positively suggested that she must have been
dreaming.
"Slaap wohl?" she asked Jack, who shook his head most decidedly. Having
had that question put to him every morning during his illness, he knew
what it meant, and did his best to make her understand he had not slept
at all.
Overcome with compassion, Tante Milligen sat down on the nearest chair,
and took the little English boy on her lap, giving him a motherly hug
and calling her maids one by one to notice the blackness of the circles
under his eyes. This was indeed treating him like a baby; but Jack
was not so aggravated by it as he had been when Walt laid him down on
Sannie's sheep-skin, because it convinced him Tante Milligen would have
interfered if she had had the least idea that Otto had been trying to
frighten him.
Then Genderen came to fetch him. Tante Milligen said he would be better
out of doors; besides she wished to keep the house quiet until her sons
should awaken. Jack took Sannie's hand and wandered about with her,
keeping very near the farm-gate, for fear of meeting Otto. Genderen
was seated on the steop, shelling pepper, ready for one of the maids
to pound. Jack would willingly have helped her, but he was looking for
Vickel.
His giant fairy was far too stately a creature to be overlooked,
yet she seemed to have vanished. He thought of the day when he lost
her before; but Genderen's fluffy charges were all safe with their
respective mothers. Everything was as usual, only his own ostrich was
nowhere to be seen. Could anybody have hurt his Vickel? Jack's blood
was boiling at the thought. He rushed back to Genderen, and showing her
a dirty feather his bird had dropped, repeated her own mournful word,
"verloren" (lost).
But Genderen smiled reassuringly, and pointed in the direction of their
own ostrich camp.
At that moment the shepherd came out of the granary, and apparently
thinking the farm-yard was deserted, began to pull about the loose
straw at the bottom of the stack where Jack had taken his siesta on
that unlucky day when he fell ill with the fever. The children saw
him through the open gate, and the Kafir groom watched him behind the
stable door. His movements were awkward, for he was stiff and sore, and
his hat was pulled over his eyes—his Sunday hat!
The girls began to laugh at the incongruity of his appearance. At
the sound of their merriment, Otto left his search, and limping up
to them, turned to Jack with a scowl, saying,—"The 'oom' has ordered
that vicious bird of yours to be shut up as long as it is here. The
cow-keeper has been telling him how it flew at Sannie."
"Zyl can tell him more about that than the cow-keeper, and perhaps I
could tell him more about last night than you did, Mr. Otto," retorted
Jack.
"See if I don't take your English impudence out of you some of these
days," growled Otto.
Jack's blood was up, and his prudence was nowhere, so he answered
hotly, "Then you will just rouse the British bull-dog. Don't you know
he would die rather than let you or any man touch a rag that was in his
care."
"Oh, oh!" sneered the German. "And where is the brute to be found?"
"Here," returned Jack proudly, laying his hand on his own heart. "I
don't imagine English boys were made of poorer stuff than a dog in his
kennel; do you?"