A DANGEROUS FORD
The day of the funeral was Sunday. Steve and party took leave of the
sad household, and the following day went farther on.
Keith was moved by the kindness and godliness of the family he had
just left. ‘These Boers are not such a bad and uncivilised people as
they are made out to be by their enemies; in fact, I wish Englishmen
were more like them. What surprises me in them is their quiet, simple,
unboastful manner, and their extreme kindness to strangers such as I
am.’
‘You will find exceptions to every rule,’ Steve replied. ‘You will find
boasters and bad people amongst them as amongst all other peoples. But,
as a people, they are true Christians, leading a life as near as they
can to what their Bible teaches them their lives should be. Their Bible
is their law, and by that standard they act and judge all things. It
is true they have some prejudices, likes and dislikes, which is to be
deplored; but even in that they injure no man. They have the making of
a great people in them, and I am proud to be of their race.’
During the Monday, our friends moved on quietly, their conversation
was hushed, they spoke of serious matters; and the usual lively and
sportive conversation prevailing amongst a party of young men out by
themselves, was entirely absent.
The road they were travelling ran through a vast plain, black as night.
The fire, prevalent at this season, had burnt up every blade of grass.
The farmers usually burn the grass down just before the first summer
rains come on, so as to have the grass come out young and tender for
their flocks. And as soon as rain has fallen, and the grass is growing,
they move out of their winter quarters in the bush veld, and come back
to their houses on the high veld, which, during the winter, are left
under the care of, perhaps, one member of the family, or a native
servant whom they can trust, or is left to take care of itself.
The party travelled on all day, and came only at midday to a house,
where they could obtain a little soaked mealies for their horses. All
the other houses they had come to were deserted, as the families were
still in the bush veld, and they had been unable to procure a mouthful
of forage for their horses. They themselves were all right, for they
had a good stock of provisions, but the poor brutes were starving.
After the feed of mealies, the horses put a little spurt on again
during the afternoon, but soon the want of food again made itself felt.
The young men began to feel anxious. If the horses got no food, they
could not pull the cart; and to remain stuck in such a black and
uninhabited plain, with no shelter from the hot sun, would be decidedly
unpleasant.
They had been directed to a farm where they would find good people at
home, as well as forage for their horses and game for their guns, and
were pushing on to reach this place. But on this bare, black plain
many roads crossed and recrossed. It was a regular network of roads
running from farm to farm. They became confused as to which road they
should take and which leave. They soon realised the fact that they had
lost their road, and were going at random. The danger now began to get
serious. Their horses were dragging wearily along, and could scarcely
keep up a semblance of a trot, and would soon give in altogether. The
poor brutes had been in harness most of the day, and that on a mouthful
of mealies only. But what could they do? They must keep on to reach
shelter for themselves and food for the horses. Night is coming on;
’tis only twilight now, and twilight does not last longer than thirty
or forty minutes here. Soon they will be unable to see the road, and
will be forced to span out on this barren, inhospitable veld.
‘Hurrah! I see a light, and what is more, the dim outline of trees, and
I do believe a house,’ cried Steve.
‘But where the dickens is the road?’ cried his cousin. The road seemed
suddenly to disappear on the hard, unimpressionable soil. But all
jumped down and went in search of a road.
Going a little forward, they discovered that they were by no means out
of the difficulty yet. A river lay between them and the light, and
what is more no _drift_ was visible. The banks were steep, and no cart
could pass it, and a deep _zee koe gat_ (wallowing pools of sea-cows)
occupied the whole visible stretch of the river. They ran up against
the stream and soon came to what appeared to be a sort of _drift_. But
what a _drift_.
On examination they found it to be an old disused _drift_ or ford.
Wash-aways of one foot to a foot and a half crossed the steep road,
going down into the river. And in the river itself large round stones
three feet high lay piled up one against the other on the only place
where a cart might have passed. What were they to do now? No other
_drift_ seemed near. Stay there they could not, and darkness was
settling down on the land.
They stood looking in dismay at this _drift_. The opposite side was not
crossed by wash-aways, but seemed to be almost one large precipice in
itself. But still, with good horses, once there, they might be able to
mount it. But how to get there?
‘Well, I do not see the use of standing talking here; we cannot stay
here--cross we must--let us act!’ said Steve.
‘But we cannot cross here,’ cried Harrison. ‘The cart would be smashed!
So how can we act?’
‘I for one won’t drive through here; my life is not insured,’ said
Steve’s cousin.
‘And I would not remain on the cart if you did,’ said Keith.
‘Well, undo the leaders and lead them across. I shall drive the cart
over, but with the wheelers only. They seem to be steady and reliable,
and fairly lively yet,’ said Steve.
The others stared at him, but he remained cool and calm, as all great
natures do in the time of peril. He started undoing the leaders, as the
others seemed in doubt whether to take him at his word or not, led them
on one side, and handed them to Theron, who seemed the most collected
of the others.
He got on the cart, spoke firmly but kindly to the horses, took the
reins well and strongly in hand, as short as possible, and started
down the precipitous road. When he got to the first drop or wash-away
in the road, he made the horses climb down first, stopped them, then
moved them forward step by step, holding them hard in the mouth, until
the cart came on the edge of the drop. When the cart came to the edge,
it dropped down, but gently, as the horses at this moment, pulled back
firmly by Steve, pressed the wheels firmly against the side of the
little precipice, and thus broke the fall, bringing the cart down with
only a slight bump, without injuring it in the least.
In this way he climbed down all the dangerous drops, until he came to
the river itself.
Here the danger seemed greatest. How to get across those great, big,
round stones? But even across these he got, foot by foot, inch by inch,
making the horses pull the wheels out against the round sides of the
rocks, and back it down gently on the other side. Thus he went from
rock to rock. Sometimes the wheels jumped from rock to rock, when they
were near enough; sometimes the cart seemed on the point of tumbling
over into the _zee koe gat_ alongside, when one wheel was on top of
a rock and the other down between two others. But the worst of all
was the feet of the poor tired horses amongst these great, big, round
boulders. Sometimes one or the other would slip down on its knees,
only to be picked up gently by the firm hand at the reins; sometimes
their feet would stick fast between two rocks, but by moving only one
step at a time, and keeping his horses quiet, Steve found himself at
last in front of the steep wall on the other side. Now he fully saw
how steep it was, and, worst of all, it was heavy sand. Will the poor,
tired horses ever manage to get out of this hole? Should the horses
lose their footing or give in for a second, when half-way, the cart
would drag them down, and all would come down in a broken mass--horses
kicking, stones obstructing--and, perhaps, the whole would go down
into the _zee koe gat_, which would mean almost certain death to the
man finding himself entangled in this mass. But there is no time for
hesitating now. He is in, and must get out. It is nearly quite dark
now. After giving the horses a moment to breathe, he let go the reins,
shouted to them to go, and lashed them until they flew forward in
terror, right against the steep wall. Now they are half-way up--my God!
they are slipping in the sand! For a moment they seemed to go down. No!
up they go again. They pant and bend, but up they go; and at last, the
cart stands on level ground again.
Now only Steve discovers that he is pouring wet; the sweat is simply
running from him. He is trembling all over from excitement; his mouth
is parched. He steps down, quiets the horses, gets a drink from the
water canteen, and wipes the sweat from his eyes and is himself again.
He is soon joined by his companions, leading the two other horses. They
had been standing looking on as if paralysed. They expected to see the
cart sink into ruins every moment, and their admiration was unbounded
when they saw him guide the vehicle over obstacle after obstacle, safe
and sound. When they came up to him, they generously congratulated him,
in unmeasured terms, for his pluck and skill; and, to the end of their
trip, when they came to dangerous places (which was often enough), they
made him take the reins, to the disgust of his cousin.
Well now, at last they could go to the house they had seen at a
distance. It is true it is dark and no road visible, but the light
still shone and invited them on; and after such a _drift_ crossed,
surely they can find their way across the level plain, even though it
be dark. Steve led the way on foot, and soon they found themselves in
front of the house they had seen.
But their hopes appeared dashed to the ground again.
‘Seems to me this is a poor show, and it strikes me we will have to
camp outside after all.’
They had come to the poorest of poor houses. A low, small mud house. It
must be one of the poorest farmers in the district.
The barking of the dogs had brought the inmates out of the house by
this time. The following dialogue took place.
‘Good evening, Oom.’ (Steve spoke).
‘Good evening, Neef.’ (Nephew).
‘Who lives here, Oom.’
‘I do!’
‘May I ask Oom’s name?’
‘Certainly, young man; my name is Zarl Venter.’
‘Will Oom have a shelter for us to-night.’
‘Young friend, I have never turned a stranger away from my door, even
though I am poor; and hope I never will. If you are satisfied with the
best we have, which is not much, you are welcome.’
‘Thank you, Oom; we have food, but we should like a shelter as it looks
like rain, and a little food and shelter for our horses.’
‘Food and shelter for yourselves, I have already told you you are
welcome to the best we have. As to your horses, I have no stable, but
those big trees are as good as any stable if it does not rain very
much. As to forage, my son has a little; you must ask him.’
‘We will pay him for it, uncle.’
‘Speak to him yourselves.’
The horses were soon tied up and fed, and our young men found
themselves in a low room, barely furnished, with a few chairs and a
table. Supper was on the table, and consisted of coffee and bread _ad
lib_, nothing more.
The young fellows stared at each other. They were hungry, and only
bread and coffee. True, it was nice, fresh, delicious home-made bread;
but bread and coffee was no supper for a hungry townsman. True they
had plenty of nice tinned meats and fish on the cart, but on its being
suggested in a whisper to Steve by his cousin, he shook his head. He
had no wish to humiliate the poor old people by bringing food to their
table, after they had offered them the best they had. So after their
frugal meal, they retired to bed. They slept on the bed of the old
couple themselves; who, as Oom Ignatious and his wife had done, slept
on the floor to accommodate their stranger guests. The son had a little
nest of his own, but one too poor to offer to these city folks.
The four had to make themselves as comfortable as they could on the
large double bed of the old people, by lying crosswise. At any rate,
the bed was perfectly clean.