HOME, SWEET HOME.

"Hi! Val! Come, quick!"

"What's the matter?" I said excitedly, for my brother Bob came tearing

down to the enclosure, sending the long-legged young ostriches

scampering away towards the other side; and I knew directly that

something unusual must be on the way, or, after the warnings he had

received about not startling the wild young coveys, he would not have

dashed up like that.

"I dunno. Father sent me to fetch you while he got the guns ready. He

said something about mounted men on the other side of the kopje, so it

can't be Kaffirs. I say, do back me up, Val, and get father to let me

have a gun."

"Ugh! you bloodthirsty young wretch!" I cried as I started with him for

our place, now partly hidden by the orchard--apple and pear trees--I had

helped to plant seven years before, when father really pitched his tent

by the kopje, and he, Bob--a little, round-headed tot of a fellow then--

Aunt Jenny, and I lived in the canvas construction till we had built a

house of stone.

The orchard was planted long before the tent was given up--all trees

that father had ordered to be sent to us from a famous nursery in

Hertfordshire. How well I remember it all!--the arrival of the four big

bundles wrapped in matting, and tied behind a great Cape wagon drawn by

twenty oxen, whose foreloper was a big, shiny black fellow, who wore a

tremendous straw hat, and seemed to think that was all he needed in the

way of clothes, as it was big enough to keep off the sun (of which there

was a great deal) and the rain (of which there was little). In fact, he

wore scarcely anything else--only part of a very old pair of canvas

trousers, which he made comfortable and according to his taste by

cutting down at the top, so as to get rid of the waist, and tearing

close in the fork till the legs were about three inches long.

I remember it all so well: seeing the foreloper come striding along by

the foremost pair of oxen, holding one of them by its horn, and carrying

a long, thin pole like a very big fishing-rod over his shoulder, for use

instead of a whip to guide the oxen. Yes, I recollect it as if it were

only yesterday. I looked at him, and he looked at me. My eyes were

fixed upon those trousers; and I burst out, boy-like, into the heartiest

fit of laughter I ever had. As I laughed his eyes opened wider and

wider, and the corners of his mouth began to creep back farther and

farther till they nearly disappeared. Then, suddenly, his mouth flew

open, showing a wonderfully white set of teeth, and he gave vent to

"Yer-her! Yawk, yawk, yawk, yawk! Yor-hor!" Then he helped to outspan

the oxen, and I showed him and the man with the wagon where to find

water. At every order I gave he opened his mouth and laughed at me; but

he eagerly did all I bade, and followed me back to the wagon to help in

unloading the bundles of trees, taking the greatest interest in

everything, and lifting the boxes and packages of stores which had come

with the trees, no matter what their weight, as if he enjoyed putting

forth his tremendous strength.

"Well, Val," said my father as he took out his big knife to cut the

string, and then carefully unlaced it--for string was precious out in

the desert--"I thought I'd chance a few; but it's quite a spec, and I'm

afraid they'll be all dried up. However, we'll try them; and now they

are here we must get them in at once. Mind, I shall look to you to make

them grow if they are still alive."

"How am I to make them grow, father?" I said.

"With water, my boy. You must bring down buckets from the spring till

we have time to dig a channel; and then they'll shift for themselves. I

hope they'll grow, for it will be pleasant for you and Bob to sit under

them sometimes and eat apples and pears such as your father used to have

in his old orchard at home."

"Yes, father," I said; "and for you too."

"Perhaps, my boy; perhaps," he said, with a sigh. "We shall see.--Here,

Jenny!"

My aunt was already at the door, in her print sun-bonnet, and looking

very cross, I thought.

"Yes," she said.

"Give these two men a good hearty meal; I dare say they're pretty

hungry."

"It's all ready, John," she said.

"That's right, my dear," said my father; and then, as if to himself, "I

might have known." Turning to the short, thick-set Dutch Boer in charge

of the wagon, father told him to go to the big wagon-sheet supported on

poles, which we used for a dining-room, and then clapped the big black

on the shoulder, bidding him go too.

"Get two spades, Val," he said as soon as the men were gone; "and you,

Bob, come off that bundle of trees. It wasn't sent all these thousands

of miles by ship and wagon to make you a horse."

I fetched the spades while my father went on unpacking the little trees,

Bob being set to help by unlacing the string from the pleasant-smelling

Russian mats. Before the new arrivals were cast loose, the big black,

with a tremendous sandwich of bread and bacon, had joined us, and showed

at once that he meant to help. After taking a big bite, he put his

sandwich down while he carried trees to the places where they were to be

planted, and after putting them down, returned for another bite, giving

me a grin every time.

Then the spades were taken up; and by that time the Boer had eaten and

drunk as much as he could, and gone to sit on the big chest in front of

the wagon, where he filled his pipe and began to smoke, never offering

to help, but watching us with his eyes half-closed.

"Here, steady, nigger!" said my father, smiling; "we're not going to

bury bullocks. Little holes like this just where I put in these pegs.--

You keep him in hand, Val. I never saw such a strong fellow before."

The great black fellow grinned and dug away, making the rich and soft

dry earth fly as he turned it out; while he laughed with delight every

time I checked him, and followed me to another place.

By that time he had finished his sandwich, and a thought occurred to me.

"Here, Bob," I said; "put down those pegs"--for he was marching about

with us, looking very serious, with the bundle of pegs under his arm.

"Go and ask Aunt Jenny to cut another big bit of bread and a very large

slice of bacon, and bring 'em here."

Bob ran off, and the big black looked at me, threw back his head, and

laughed, and laughed again, as he drove the spade deeply into the rich

loamy soil; and when the bread and bacon came he laughed, and bit with

those great white teeth of his, and munched and chewed like the

lying-down oxen, and dug and dug, till my father said, "No more

to-night," and bade me carry in the spades.

That night, before going to bed, tired, but happy with the thoughts of

our orchard to come, I walked with father beneath the great stars, going

round the place--father with his rifle over his shoulder--to see if all

was safe.

We went straight to the wagon, to find the oxen all lying down chewing

their cud, and from under the tilt there came a deep, heavy snore; but

there was also a rustling sound, a big black head popped out, and the

man said, in a deep, thick voice:

"Boss, hear lion?"

"No," said my father sharply. "Did you, boy?"

"Iss. _Oom! Wawk, wawk, wawk_. Boss, lissum."

We stood there in the silence, and for a full minute I could hear

nothing but the deep snore of the Boer and chewing of the oxen. Then,

distinctly heard, but evidently at a great distance, there was the

tremendous barking roar of a lion, and my father uttered a deep "Ha!"

"Boss shoot lion," said the black in a quiet, contented way; and from

out of the darkness beneath the great wagon came the sound of the

foreloper settling himself down once more to sleep. I remember

wondering whether he had anything to cover himself, for the night was

fresh and cold. I asked my father.

"Yes; I saw him with a sheepskin over his shoulders. He won't hurt."

We were interrupted by no lion that night, and at the first dawn of day

we were out with the spades again; our black visitor, under my

direction, digging the holes for the trees, while father planted, and

Bob held the stems straight upright till their roots were all nicely

spread out, and soil carefully placed amongst them, and trampled firmly

in.

This went on till breakfast-time, when Aunt Jenny called us, and the

Dutchman came and sat with us, while the great Kaffir carried his

portion away, and sat under the wagon to munch.

After the meal the Boer lit his pipe, sat down on a piece of rock, and

smoked and looked on till midday, by which time the fruit-trees were all

planted, and the big Kaffir had trotted to and fro with a couple of

buckets, bringing water to fill up the saucer-like depressions placed

about each tree. Then Aunt Jenny called us to dinner, and after that

the Boer said it was time to inspan and begin the journey back.

Oh, how well I remember it all!--seeing my father opening a wash-leather

bag and paying the Boer the sum that had been agreed upon, and that he

wasn't satisfied, but asked for another dollar for the work done by his

man. Then father laughed and said he ought to charge for the meals that

had been eaten; but he gave the Boer the money all the same; and Aunt

Jenny uttered a deep grunt, and said afterwards in her old-fashioned

way, "Oh John, what a foolish boy you are!" Then he kissed her and

said, "Yes, Jen. I always was. You didn't half-teach me when I was

young."

This was after we had watched the wagon grow smaller and smaller in the

distance on its way back, and after the great black had stood and looked

down at me and laughed in his big, noisy way.

Then once more we were alone in the great desert, father looking proudly

down at his little orchard, and Bob walking up and down touching every

tree, and counting them over again.

"Begins to look homely now, Val," he said; "but we must work, boy--

work."

We did work hard to make that place the home it grew to.

"It's for you, boys," he said, "when I'm dead and gone;" and it was

about that time I began to think and understand more fully how father

was doing it all for the sake of us boys, and to try and ease his

heart-ache. Aunt Jenny set me thinking by her words, and at last I

fully grasped how it all was.

"I believe he'd have died broken-hearted, Val," she said to me, "if I

hadn't come to him. It was after your poor dear mother passed away. I

told him he was not acting like a man and a father to give up like that,

and it roused him; and one day--you remember, it was when I had come to

keep house for him--he turned to me and said, `I shall never be happy in

England again; and I've been thinking it would be a good thing to take

those boys out to the Cape and settle there. They'll grow up well and

strong in the new land, and I shall try to make a home for them yonder.'

`Yes, John,' I said, `that's the very thing you ought to do.' `Ah,' he

said, `but it means leaving you behind, Jenny, dear, and you'll perhaps

never set eyes upon them again.' `Oh, yes, I shall, John,' I said, `for

I've come to stay.' `What!' he cried; `would you go with us, sis?'

`Yes,' I said, `to the very end of the world.' So we came here, Val,

where there's plenty of room, and no neighbours to find fault with our

ways."

That's how it was; and now I can admire and think of how Aunt Jenny, the

prim maiden lady, gave up all her own old ways to set to and work and

drudge for us all, living in a wagon and then in a tent, and smiling

pleasantly at the trees we planted, and bringing us lunch where we were

working away, dragging down stones for the house which progressed so

slowly, though father's ideas wore modest.

"For," said he, "we'll build one big stone room, Val, and make it into

two with part of the tent. Then by-and-by we'll build another room

against it, and then another and another till we get it into a house."

Yes, it was hard work getting the stones, and we were busy enough one

day in the hot sunshine, about a month after the wagon had been with the

trees and stores, when Bob suddenly stood shading his eyes, and cried:

"Some one's coming!"

We looked up, and there, far in the distance, I saw a black figure

striding along under a great, broad matting-hat.

"Why, it looks like that great Kaffir, father," I said.

"Nonsense, boy," he replied; "the Kaffirs all look alike at a distance."

"But it is, father," I cried excitedly. "Look; he's waving his big hat

because he sees us." I waved mine in answer; and directly after he

began to run, coming up laughing merrily, and ending by throwing down

three assagais and the bundle he carried, as he cried:

"Come back, boss."

We gave him something to eat, and the next minute he was lifting and

carrying stones, working like a slave; and at night he told me in his

way that he was going to stop along with old boss and young boss and

little boss and old gal, and never go away no more.

Charge! A Story of Briton and Boer · 第 4 / 128 题