PALAVER
THE Englishmen at Kilembonga acted up to their resolution. They gave
Farmer Van der Wyck a rattling good time, and although the old man
was a bit reticent at first, he soon emerged from his shell.
He would talk for hours, relating incidents and anecdotes of life in
the Transvaal long before Johannesburg was in existence. He told of
his experiences fighting against the British, first at Laing's Nek
and Majuba, and then, almost twenty years later, at Magersfontein
and Paardeberg.
Then, with the utmost simplicity, he explained how he, like
thousands of his fellow-Boers, changed his allegiance, because the
English knew how to keep their word.
"By-the-bye," remarked Colonel Narfield, when the old farmer was
relating anecdotes concerning his neighbours, "did you ever happen
to come across a man called Jan Groute?"
Farmer Van der Wyck nodded his head gravely, and continued puffing
meditatively at his pipe for several seconds before he replied:
"I know of him; but I have never met him, as far as I am aware."
No more was said at the time. Colonel Narfield could form no excuse
for asking for further information, and Piet Van der Wyck showed no
inclination to speak further about the train bandit.
It was not until two days later that the old farmer himself broached
the subject.
"You spoke of Jan Groute," he said. "He is no good. For several
years the police have tried to arrest him, but without success. The
nearest they did was to shoot him through the leg near Beaufort
West. After that he disappeared. I heard it said that he sailed to
England or America, taking with him a lot of diamonds, for, besides
being a train bandit, he is an I.D.B."
"What's that, Mr. Van der Wyck?" asked Tiny.
"An illicit diamond buyer," explained Colonel Narfield--"a man who
buys diamonds from natives instead of through the recognised
channels. It's a serious offence in South Africa. But what happened
to Jan Groute after his return?"
"Do you know him, Colonel Narfield?" inquired the old farmer
pointedly. "You seem much interested."
"Because I fancy he was at work on the Tabora Railway," replied the
Colonel. "Colin and Desmond were in a hold-up, and from what they
told me the description somewhat points to the fact that the chief
robber was Jan Groute."
"When was that?" asked Piet Van der Wyck.
Colin supplied that information.
The old man shook his head.
"It is unlikely--very," he replied. "There were reliable reports
that Jan was busy near Bloemfontein for several weeks after the
Vryburg hold-up. He could not be in places two thousand miles apart
within a few hours."
"No," rejoined Colonel Narfield. Then, turning to Colin, he said:
"Show Mynheer Van der Wyck your talisman, and see what he thinks of
it."
The old farmer took the swastika and held it at arm's length. Then,
unable to see the characters on it, he pulled out a
magnifying-glass.
"One of the drawbacks of old age," he explained. "Although I can see
things very clearly at long distances--few men on the veldt can
discover a hartebeeste quicker than I--it is close work that
troubles me. Ah, this is rather a rare piece of work--copper and
gold. The shape is fairly common. You will find similar articles
amongst all the Kaffir tribes, from the Cape right up to Mashonaland
and Matabeleland. Beyond that it is not so common, although I
haven't had so much to do with the natives beyond the Limpopo River,
so I may be wrong. Where did you find it, Colin?"
"Someone gave it to me when the mail-boat was nearing Cape Town,"
replied the lad, not caring to mention that the donor bore the name
of Van der Wyck. "It has proved very useful at times when dealing
with the natives."
"I can understand that," agreed Piet Van der Wyck. "It is a pity it
has been dented."
"Dented!" echoed Colonel Narfield. "Where?"
"Oh, that," replied Colin carelessly. "That was a sort of accident
the other day."
"What accident?" demanded the Colonel.
"When Sibenga's people chased Tiny and me," explained Sinclair.
"Somehow the amulet worked round over my shoulder. A nigger flung a
throwing assegai, and the thing struck the swastika. Yes, it cut the
skin a bit, but not much."
"You ought to have told me at once," said Colonel Narfield. "Even a
slight superficial cut like that might have proved dangerous or,
perhaps, fatal. Frequently these throwing-assegais are made of
copper or a soft alloy, so that they bend on impact with a hard
substance, and cannot be returned with interest by the person at
whom they are thrown, and as you know, a wound inflicted with a
copper weapon is apt to be poisonous. What is your impression of
this part of the country, Van der Wyck?"
"It is totally different to the veldt," replied the farmer. "There
ought to be good maize crops raised on the level ground, but the
mountains .... To men like myself they appear stupendous and
magnificent, but they are worthless from a farmer's point of view.
Several of my countrymen have trekked here and taken up land from
the Government. You have plenty of springbok, I see."
"Are you fond of shooting?" asked Tiny.
The old man's eyes glistened.
"I am not yet past that," he replied. "In my younger days, before
the big game was driven northward, I have shot both lions and
elephants in the Transvaal and Bechuanaland."
"We may be able to give you some big-game shooting before you go,"
remarked Colonel Narfield.
Before Van der Wyck could reply, there came a knock at the door and
Blue Fly appeared.
"Sibenga mans, dey come make palaver one time, sah," he reported.
The former followers of the late and unlamented chief had been very
docile of late. They had been taught a stiff lesson, and its results
were bearing lasting fruit. Colonel Narfield had also learnt a
lesson from the little affair. He realised that, when dealing with
natives of East Africa, a conciliatory attitude is invariably
misconstrued by the blacks as a sign of weakness.
No doubt the natives judged Englishmen by comparing them with their
former German masters. The latter were harsh and tyrannical, and
were held in awe by the inhabitants of the country. The Englishmen,
being easy-going and generally kind-hearted, were regarded as being
of inferior fibre to the Germans for that very reason.
"Tell them to wait, Blue Fly," replied Colonel Narfield. "They can
stand in the sun until I am ready to see them."
On principle, the Colonel kept the deputation waiting for nearly an
hour; then, telling Colin and Tiny to arm themselves, and buckling
on his revolver, the owner of the Kilembonga Estate went out to
receive the deputation.
Seated in cane chairs on the stoep, the three Englishmen awaited the
native headmen. The latter came forward with profound humility--a
great contrast to their former appearance at the gate of
Kilembonga--and they took good care to leave their assegais and
shields outside. One of the natives, stepping forward, announced
himself as Logula.
"I know you, Logula," said Colonel Narfield. "You may speak."
"Great One!" exclaimed Logula, "we seek your help. Our kraals and
our fields are in danger."
"They were," admitted Colonel Narfield, "when Sibenga came here with
armed men, thinking to do great deeds. Who are the men of whom you
are afraid?"
"None, lord," replied Sibenga's successor. "Not men, but beasts.
Last night, before the setting of the moon, a bull elephant and two
cow elephants did great mischief amongst our kraals. Five of our
people were killed, and our spears are as sticks against the huge
beasts. Therefore we are come, O Great One, to implore your aid.
With iron tubes that smoke, surely, O Great One, you can slay them."
The owner of Kilembonga turned to his guest, who was watching the
scene through the large open window.
"Would you care to have a little sport, Mynheer Van der Wyck?" he
asked.
"Only too delighted," was the prompt response.