A man who is "good all round," as the saying goes, in weighty matters,
is rarely a fool in dealing with those of minor importance, although he
is sometimes. In which connection the advice we just heard Greenoak
administer to his charge showed sound judgment and a knowledge of human
nature.
"The other party to the difficulty is in no hurry to clinch matters," he
had said, and it was no more than the truth. Hazel Brandon was gifted
with rather more common-sense than most girls of her age. She and her
young companion had been drawn very much together during their sojourn
at this isolated farm, and she had grown very fond of him; but what she
doubted was whether she had grown fond of him enough. She knew, of
course, how matters were trending, and that she had only to hold up a
finger. Yet she kept that finger persistently down.
She was in no hurry to engage herself to anybody. There was plenty of
time. She was quite young and perfectly happy at home, as incidentally
and periodically she would remind a remote cousin who pestered her. But
she owned to herself that he was not in the same street with Dick
Selmes. Yet about the latter there was something wanting, something
which, much as she liked him, somewhat failed to satisfy her.
Light-heartedness is a valuable gift, but he was too light-hearted; too
boyish. He would be the better for some trying experience, she decided,
something that would mould his character. Even were she to fall in with
the wishes he was seeking opportunity to utter, how could she feel
entirely assured that he knew his own mind? She could not so feel,
therefore she cut the knot of the difficulty by taking care to give him
no such opportunity.
Then again, what about his belongings--his father, for instance? She
knew that his position and prospects were unimpeachable; and would it
not be said that she had laid herself out to entrap him? There was a
decided hardening of the proud little mouth at the thought. She would
have no secret or provisional understanding. If he knew his own mind,
he knew where to find her when his travels should be over; in her own
home to wit. This would cut both ways, for while suspecting him of not
quite knowing his own mind in the matter, Hazel candidly admitted to
herself that at this stage she did not know hers. She owned she would
miss him dreadfully when he left; but--the point was, would she miss him
when she got home again?
That last evening could hardly be pronounced a successful experiment in
cheerfulness. Not to put too fine a point on it it was unequivocally
dismal. Harley Greenoak was, if anything, more sparing of speech than
usual, and old Hesketh was tired. Hazel's heroic attempts at
brightening up the situation fell flat. Dick Selmes was gloomy, and
inclined to import a note of sentiment into his remarks; and then--his
last cable was cut away. He had clung to a hope that he might get Hazel
to himself, if only for a few minutes, after the others had retired; but
no--she forestalled them, bidding good-night quite unnecessarily early,
and before any one else had shown signs of moving.
"Got everything ready, Dick?" said Greenoak, coming into his room. "We
start just after sun-up, you know."
"I wish we started now," was the answer, and the speaker savagely kicked
his boots across the floor, to the grave peril of a big tarantula
prowling along in the shadow against the dilapidated wainscotting. "I
hope there'll be a thundering big war when we get up there. I could
take on a good deal of excitement just now."
The other laughed pleasantly. "I know you could, Dick, but let's hope
we'll get some excitement without the war. Well now, pull yourself
together. There are plenty of good times sticking out in front of you.
Good-night."
Dick, left alone, thought what an easy thing it was to give advice. How
could an old chap like Greenoak realise what he was going through? he
said to himself--losing sight of the possibility of his friend having at
one time gone through an exactly similar experience. Ah, well--there
was a prospect of excitement ahead--that was one comfort.
Going to the window, he threw up the sash, and the night air, still and
cool, penetrated the room. The sky was clear and the stars shone in
myriad frosty twinkle, and up from the shaggy forest strips which lined
the deep kloofs abutting on the great hollow, came the multifold voices
of the creatures of the night, winged or four-footed. Under a cold moon
the great crags were visible, and as he gazed forth upon the still
vastness of Nature, it seemed to Dick Selmes that every spot on the
place carried with it some association. The night reminded him of that
similar one down in the Addo, when he had gone forth single-handed to
seek adventure--and had found it too, with a vengeance. Since then what
an experience had come his way, changing his life completely. Then,
chilled by the night air, he closed down the window and turned in.
It seemed hardly five minutes before the entrance of Greenoak told him
that it was time to turn out. There was a sharp, raw nip in the air,
although the sky was without a cloud, for the sun was not yet up, and
Dick proceeded to dress, hurriedly and shiveringly. He felt altogether
depressed. He wished he had never heard of South Africa, and then, even
upon his youthful understanding, was borne in the certainty that what
had overtaken him here would have overtaken him somewhere else.
As he entered the living-room Hazel was there dispensing early coffee.
If only he had the opportunity of being alone with her even now, he
thought, but he had not. Already the cart stood inspanned in front of
the stoep.
"Well, young buffalo hunter," said old Hesketh, "I shall be sorry to
lose you, and if ever you're round this way don't forget to look in and
help to liven an old man up. You're always welcome for as long as you
like to stay. But it's slow work for a young 'un, to be sure."
"That it isn't, Mr Hesketh," rejoined Dick, heartily, not a little
touched by the kindness and real warmth of his host's words. "I've had
a rattling good time here, and enjoyed it as well as I've ever enjoyed
anything"--with a meaning glance in the direction of Hazel, to which
she, however, utterly failed to respond. But perhaps she made up for it
in the frank warmth of her farewell.
"Do come and see us at our place, Mr Selmes, when you have done your
travels," she said. "My father will be delighted, I can answer for
that, though we can't give you quite such good sport as you've been
having here. Still, you will have a hearty welcome."
Dick mumbled something as he pressed the little hand, longer perhaps
than he need have done--and then he had a confused consciousness of
climbing to his seat, and in less than no time the homestead at
Haakdoornfontein was out of sight.
"Jolly old place," he said regretfully, as he looked back. "Tell you
what, Greenoak. I quite hate leaving it."
"I dare say," remarked Greenoak, drily. He was thinking at that moment
that his charge was becoming something of a burden. The said charge was
thinking of something else, and that "something" evidently something
all-engrossing--so much so, that for upwards of an hour he did not utter
a word--a very unusual thing indeed for Dick Selmes.
But he was young, and his spirits soon reasserted themselves. Bowling
along in the glorious air and sunshine, as each fresh stage passed took
them over--to him--new and varying scenes, his temporary gloom was soon
dispelled. Harley Greenoak, too, was the ideal kind and tactful
companion, and by the time they sighted the beautiful mountain range,
the forest-clad rampart beyond which lay Kafirland--Kafirland with its
delightful potentialities of stirring adventure--Dick had quite
recovered his old light-heartedness. Yet this was in a measure sobered,
tempered, by the recollections of one whom he had left behind him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Well, girlie," said old Hesketh to his niece, after the departure of
the guests. "We shall miss the young 'un--eh? You'll be dull now with
only an old fogey to put up with."
"Have I been dull before, Uncle Eph?" answered the girl, slipping her
arm through his. "And I think this isn't the first time I've had `only
an old fogey to put up with.'"
"No, it isn't. Well, young to young--that's the role of Nature, and he
is a fine young fellow that. I never saw a young 'un I took to so
much."
And old Ephraim Hesketh suddenly found himself being very much kissed.