A CHANGE OF ROUTE
The party rose early next morning, fed the horses, and held a
consultation. They learned that they had passed the farmhouse to which
they had been directed, far to the right. They were told by Oom Zarl
Venter that they would find very few people at home on their present
course, as in that direction nearly everybody was in the bush veld with
their cattle.
‘But if you want game, why don’t you go to the bush veld. There you
will find lots of game as well as people.’
‘But it is too far away from here.’
‘Not at all, you can be in the bush veld to-morrow if you choose, tired
as your horses are.’
He further told them that they might go as far as Mijnheer Stienberg’s
place, just this side of Kameelpoort, and the following day pass
through Kameelpoort, when they would be in the outskirts of the bush
veld, and just in the right place for pheasants and partridge shooting.
‘But is there no place half-way between this and Mijnheer Stienberg’s
place where we might obtain forage for our horses?’ asked Steve.
‘Yes, there is a place. Old Silas Prinsloo lives there--but--’ and the
old man smiled, ‘he is very _Kwaai_’ (bad-humoured).
‘Too _Kwaai_ to sell us some forage for our horses?’
‘Well, you see, some _Smouses_ cheated the old man several times, and
if you are taken for _Smouses_ (traders or hawkers), you must look out
and get out of his way; and he seems to suspect all strangers with a
cart laden as yours is for _Smouses_.’
‘Well, we will try at all events,’ said Steve.
They set out, well directed as to which roads to take and which to
leave; and after the previous day’s predicament, took good care to go
right.
After several hours’ travelling, they arrived at a house which, from
the description they had heard, they correctly surmised to belong to
Oom Silas Prinsloo. They halted in front of the door. An old man with
a stern countenance was leaning over the bottom half of the door,
surveying them with a threatening and severe cast of countenance. He
did not speak.
‘Good-day, Mijnheer!’ began Steve.
‘Good day!’
‘Who lives here, Mijnheer?’
‘What has that got to do with you?’ severely.
‘Oh, nothing, Mijnheer. Only I thought Mijnheer Silas Prinsloo must be
living here, who, I have been told, would be kind enough to sell us
some forage for our horses.’
‘I don’t keep forage for every cheating Jew of a _Smouse_ who may come
to cheat me. You had better go; I don’t want to buy anything, and my
dogs are very _Kwaai_ (fierce).’
‘We are not _Smouses_, Mijnheer, we are going to the bush veld for a
little shooting and want to buy a few bundles of oats for our poor
tired horses.’
‘And what may your name be?’ he asked, still suspecting.
‘Stephaans Joubert, Mijnheer.’
‘From where do you come?’
‘From Pretoria.’
‘Where were you born?’
‘At G----, Cape Colony.’
‘At G----, Cape Colony? That is where _my_ parents come from, and my
great grandmother was a Joubert. We must be related then, surely?’
The ice was broken, the old man came out, shook hands, accepted
Keith’s tobacco pouch, filled his pipe, and assisted to outspan the
horses, led the way to the stable, and, hey presto! the horses were
contentedly chewing plenty of good oats. The party was invited into
the house and coffee brought forth, while poor Steve had for a full
long hour to explain the genealogy of his house, and hear that of
the host explained; and the old man succeeded in explaining how they
were related. Steve did not exactly understand the conversation, but
from the old man’s use of words, such as cousin in the third and
fourth degree ‘to my grandmother,’ and so forth, he thought it must
be somewhere in Noah’s time that the relationship commenced. However,
as the pretended relationship helped to feed the horses, he did
not complain. After an hour’s good feed, the horses were once more
inspanned, and, much to Steve’s relief, his new-found relative was left
behind, in spite of urgent appeals from the said relative to spend the
day there.
They arrived early in the afternoon at Mijnheer Stienberg’s, and were
well received by the family. The old man and his wife were emigrants
themselves from the Cape Colony, and belonged to the most progressive
class of farmers. A good governess was kept for the boys and girls, and
the farm work was carried on progressively and at a good profit.
The young men enjoyed a real pleasant social evening with the governess
and the girls, who were all good musicians and had splendid voices. The
young fellows, who all liked music, joined them in several songs, but
enjoyed most to lie back in their easy-chairs and listen to the fresh
voices of the girls singing Dutch and English ballads and hymns. Thus
they occupied themselves until a late hour, after which they went to
bed and enjoyed a good night’s sleep. An early start was made the next
day, for all were anxious now to reach the bush veld.