Genderen unlocked the door, and waited for him to point to what he
wanted.
Jack's eye roved over the motley contents for a moment, and then his
finger touched the inkstand.
Genderen gave a smile of intelligence, and putting her own pen in his
other hand let him carry them off in triumph.
He knew that Otto was gone by this time, and that Zyl was still asleep,
so he slipped unperceived into the garden and made a writing-desk of
his friend's three-cornered seat. The hedge round Zyl's garden had
grown luxuriantly, thanks to the diligent use of his watering-pot, so
that no one could see what Jack was doing behind it.
He sat down on the grass and took out his treasure. It was all right,
but the edges were wearing away. He read the lady's note again. It only
covered one page of the sheet of paper. Jack's eyes grew bright: with
three pages of blank paper he could write a letter to his grandfather,
and send the note and its contents to him.
"He can find the lady. They are both living at Nottingham. Tomorrow is
the day for the post-cart to pass," thought Jack, feeling his spirits
rise like a bird at having found such a good way out of his difficulty.
Jack had never written a letter by himself before. He had often put
a little note to his grandfather into his father's letters. But then
there was always his father to tell him if it were all right. Now he
must do it all; for if he wore the bank-note round his neck another
week, it would drop to pieces, and if he tried to hide it anywhere else
Otto would get it. So Jack wrote on as well as he could:—
"DEAR GRANDFATHER,—Some thieves burned down our house, and father
burned his coat getting me out of the fire, so he had to buy one of
a stranger—a young Englishman, who said he had got a coat he did not
want. It was too big for him. It had belonged to a friend of his, and
it was put with his luggage by mistake, for he left England in a great
hurry. His friend said it was not worth while to send it back. Father
and I went to the nearest farm, and he was to send the coat there.
Father was going away with the waggon, but as I was ill, he left me
behind.
"The coat came too late for him to wear it on the journey, so I was
taking care of it for him. And one day when I was ill in bed my ostrich
tore it, only because it was in the way, and she wanted to come to me.
Then I found there was a letter between the lining and the cloth, with
a bank-note in it. I thought at first I had better keep it until father
came back; but I can't. The people here are very kind to me; but they
speak Dutch, so I cannot tell them anything.
"There is only one man who can speak English, and he is a bad man, and
tried last night to steal the bank-note. I do not know what he would
have done to me if my ostrich had not come to my help and knocked him
down. She is the dearest, loveliest bird in all the world. I can't tell
you how I love her. I have just found out this horrid man has got my
ostrich shut up. I know what that means. He thinks he shall get the
bank-note away from me when I have no big bird to fight for me. But he
is making a mistake, for I am going to send it to you by the post.
"And please, grandfather dear, will you give back to the lady it
belongs to, if she is still at Nottingham; and if she is not there now,
you will be more likely to find her than father; and anyhow it will be
safe. I will put all in this letter; the card that was tied to the coat
too, for I am afraid I should not write the names plain. I have no more
paper, so good-bye, dear grandfather.
"Your affectionate grandson,
"JOHN TREBY."
Jack dried his letter in the sun, and then folded the bank-note in it
once again, and slipped it into the ragged envelope. He looked well
at the card, thinking that if he were the schoolmaster, he should
not like to have such a difficult name to spell every time he had to
write a letter. Then he packed both card and letter in a sheet of his
"Illustrated London News," and tied it up with the precious piece of
string he had found in his pocket after the fire.
Oh, was not it a wonderful thing that he should actually have money
enough to pay the postage. It was good of Zyl's uncle to give him that
sixpence. Oh, how true it is that with the trial God sends the way of
escape, that we may be able to bear it. Jack thought of the night when
his father had explained that to him—a Sunday night years ago. He had
listened and remembered then; he was living by it now.
Next the thought of what Otto might do to him in his exasperation, when
he found himself baffled, came over Jack like a cold shadow; but he
threw it off, exclaiming, "I comforted father when I reminded him of
Christ's own words,—
"'Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.'
"And ought not they to comfort me? I won't be made afraid." He put back
his precious letter into its case of rushes, and marched into the house
with Genderen's pen and ink.
Zyl was just out of bed, and laughing heartily at the idea of beginning
his day with dinner; but for all that there was a cloud on his brow,
for like Genderen and Sannie, he was secretly fretting for his Kafir
nurse, and sullenly resenting his father's harshness to her. So Jack's
excitement passed unnoticed.
Van Immerseel himself was sorry for them all; and hoping to divert his
children's thoughts from the lost Intombi (as a Kafir girl is usually
called), he told them he was going down to the ostrich camp to collect
the eggs, and that they should go too. Zyl should drive them in the
cart.
The girls ran off for their sun-kappjes, whilst the boys packed the
egg-baskets in the back of the cart. Jack was delighted, for he
expected to find his Vickel there. He had often seen the Boer's men
loading this cart with barley quite early in the morning, and he
guessed very shrewdly that it was to feed the ostriches.
Jack's great question now was how to get his letter to the post-cart.
And in this discovery, he found a key to unlock his difficulty. Van
Immerseel was mounted on his favourite cob. Like most African farmers,
he preferred riding to walking when he visited his ostriches, because
the presence of a horse has a very quieting effect upon these feathered
giants. He rode slowly, whistling a favourite tune, whilst the cart
rumbled over the stones at a little distance.
When they reached the camp, Van Immerseel left the girls outside, but
he took Jack upon his horse and showed him Vickel, very happy and
content in the midst of her feathered kin. Zyl marched boldly after
them with a basket on his head, until they came to the nests. Here the
Van dismounted, and was soon in high good humour with the number of
beautiful eggs he was able to collect. Jack was very quiet and very
attentive, watching eagerly everything that went on around, not a
little pleased that Van Immerseel trusted him to hold the bridle of his
horse whilst he was busy after the eggs.
When they returned, Van Immerseel let both the boys ride at once,
whilst he led the cart himself very carefully. Jack was happy, for he
had worked out his plan, and not one of his Dutch friends imagined for
a moment that his joyous laugh, as he rode behind his friend, was the
effervescence of such a desperate resolution.
When they reached home, Jack employed the rest of the evening in
making a hood for Vickel out of his pocket-handkerchief—something
after the fashion of a carriage-hood, so that it might let up and
down. He had saved a handful of the strongest rushes they had found in
the ravine. Genderen supplied him with a needle and thread. He folded
his handkerchief cornerwise, and made runners for the rushes across
it at even distances. It was easy to draw it into shape and sew the
rushes firmly together at the ends. He had torn off the hems of the
handkerchief to serve for strings, and when these were sewn on his work
was completed.
When one of the Hottentot maids fetched him indoors to supper, he took
the opportunity to entreat Tante Milligen to let him sleep indoors. She
was quite prepared for this, and understood him easily. So she put him
in bed with Zyl. And when Walt joined them, an hour or two later, a
nice time they had of it. With fever and fretting Jack was as thin as
a little skeleton—a perfect shrimp in Walt's eyes, who insisted upon
putting Jack between them, for fear he should kick him out of bed in
his sleep without knowing it. When sleep visited his two Dutch friends
it was banished from Jack's eyelids; for snoring followed in its train,
and every time the two young giants stretched themselves or rolled
over, he thought he should be crushed. So he passed the greater part of
the night sitting cross-legged on his pillow.
With daybreak Walt arose, and Jack followed his example, for he was
gasping like a little fish for air; but Zyl, who had not yet recovered
his lost rest, was sleeping heavily. Walt perceived poor Jack's
condition, and did not wonder at his determination to escape to the
fresh, cool morning air outside; so he let the English boy accompany
him to the garden, where Walt was soon too hard at work to take much
heed of his restless companion.
As soon as the farm-yard gate was open Jack went in, and seating
himself at the door of the granary, waited for the arrival of the
ostrich-cart. When he heard the droning hum of the dairymaid's song,
he ventured to her door and begged a cup of milk. The balmy air of the
African dawn was breathing new life into every vein. It seemed an easy
thing to him then to scamper over the veldt on Vickel and meet the
post-cart; yes, and be back again almost before anybody could miss him.
The cart was coming for the barley. Jack was at his post in a moment.
The "oom" himself had taken him to see his bird the night before, so
the men about the yard, who had found Vickel guarding the door of the
loft morning after morning, thought it quite natural Jack should want
to go and feed her.
The drive through the morning air raised Jack's spirits, and he joined
merrily in the Kafir's song, catching the lilt and humming the tune
when the queer-sounding words escaped him.
A deafening scream from the ostrich camp greeted their arrival. The
hungry birds were crowding round the gate, crying their loudest for
breakfast. A hundred open beaks and as many impatient claws scratching
up the sand looked somewhat formidable. Jack filled the crown of his
hat with barley, and as soon as the gate was unlocked, he waved it high
in the air, flinging the grains of corn far and wide. The feathered
phalanx was dispersed in a moment. The tall, towering necks were bent
to the ground with a meek gobble, gobble.
"They are nothing but big poultry after all," laughed Jack.
The Kafir laughed too, and invited Jack to enter; but he preferred
remaining by the gate, whilst the Kafir went in with his sack of barley
on his shoulders.
While the man was thus engaged, Jack called, "Vic! Vic!" but at first
there was no answer. Jack raised his voice, and looked around. He soon
found her, for the other birds would not suffer the stranger to eat
with them at present; so Vickel was hovering round and round the busy
group, fain to content herself with a solitary grain or two snatched
desperately between her companions' feet. At the sound of Jack's call
she ran towards him with a crow of delight.
He had kept some barley for her in the crown of his hat. A few grains
flung towards her again and again soon separated her from the other
ostriches. Jack softly opened the gate, and by showing her the barley
still left in his hat, he tempted her to follow him out. He shut the
gate behind them, emptied the remainder of the barley on the ground,
and whilst Vickel devoured it eagerly, he sprang upon her back.
Away on his winged steed, away like the wind, across that sea of
glowing sand they flitted like a light-gray cloud, circling round and
round in their rapid flight. Never before had Vickel tasted the full
delight of perfect liberty on her native veldt. She arched her graceful
neck and shook out her curling plumes to the morning breeze in a whirl
of mad delight, as if she were a willing participant in her master's
daring scheme.
Pursuit was impossible; nothing could overtake them now. Vickel
scarcely touched the ground as she skimmed across the mighty plain,
balancing herself with her outspread wings, with an easy, graceful
movement that was neither running nor flying, but swifter than the
swiftest racer that ever won the Derby. The speed at which they
travelled almost took away Jack's breath.
He was delighted with the success of his manœuvre. The ease with which
he had been able to manage the starting encouraged him mightily.
Through the clear African atmosphere Jack could see for miles. He had
so often watched for the post-cart by his father's side, and had been
the first to perceive the little cloud of dust darkening the horizon
line, he could not miss it now.