Two pleasant, restful days under the green leaves at old Morgenstern's
farm and store, and he was pressed to stay another; but Dyke was anxious
to get back to his brother, and with Duke limping about, the horse and
bullocks looking quite fresh and well, everything loaded up carefully,
and a cask of sweet, pure water slung at the back of the wagon, Dyke
stood at early dawn ready to start.
The oxen were yoked and hitched on to the dissel-boom and trek tow,
breakfast was over, and all was ready, with Jack flourishing his great
long whip of hippopotamus hide, eager to start.
Just then the hospitable old German signed to the Kaffir to come
alongside, and a chirrup brought up the dog as well.
"Now, mein vrient," said the old man, "you gan oondershtand goot
Englisch, if you gannot shpeak him zo vel ash me, zo you listen. I am a
creat magistrate, und know a lot. I am going to dalk to dot tog, und
you are to hear.--Now, my goot tog, you are better as effer you vas,
heh?"
Duke barked.
"Das ist goot. Now you are going to Kopfontein."
The dog barked loudly.
"Das ist good, too. Now I dell you dis: if Kaffir Jack--you know Kaffir
Jack--dot is him."
He clapped his hand on the black's shoulder, and the dog barked
excitedly.
"Yaas, you know him; und I dell you dot if he does not work, you are to
bide him."
The dog's hair rose up, and Jack made a movement to run, but the big fat
hand held him fast.
"Und then, mein goot tog, if you do dot, he vill be ferry pad, und
perhaps go mad. I mean, if you bide him, hey?"
The dog barked furiously, and Jack's blackish face turned of a horrible
dirty grey as he stood shivering, having pretty well understood every
word.
"Dot is right; und now Kaffir Jack will drive die oxen, und pe a goot
poy. Now you go. _Trek_!"
The Kaffir sprang away, whip in hand, the willing oxen began to pull,
and the wagon went off through the soft sand, Duke hurrying to his place
beneath, just in front of the water cask, while Dyke stood, rein in
hand, waiting to shake hands with his host, who laughed softly.
"I dalk all dot nonsense do vrighten him like a shild," he said. "He
vill pe a goot poy now till he begin to forget, und den you must
vrighten him doo. Now goot-pye, und der goot God bless you, mein sohn."
Dyke shook hands warmly with the friendly old man, sprang upon Breezy,
and soon overtook the wagon, which was going steadily along the faint
track.
He glanced back several times, seeing the old trader standing in front
of his house smoking his big pipe, but at last he was invisible, and the
boy set himself to achieve his long, slow, five or six days' journey,
hopeful, rested, and ready, feeling as if all was going to be right, and
more happy in his mind than he had been for days.
As he went on and on, fresh, light-hearted, and bright, every place made
familiar by halts as he came, wore a very different aspect, and there
were times when he smiled at some of the petty vexations, though others
were serious enough. For instance, by this water, where he had had so
much difficulty in getting wood, for the day's journey had been very
long, and it was growing dark when he halted, and a distant roar told of
the possibility of a visit from lions, and perhaps the loss of one of
the bullocks. But now all was smooth and pleasant, the evening was
glorious, the oxen not too weary, and Jack soon collected enough wood
for cooking and keeping up a roaring blaze.
The next day, too, was hot and pleasant. Several guinea-fowl fell to
Dyke's gun, and he shot a dangerous viper which raised its head
sluggishly from the sandy track, threatening, with gleaming eyes and
vibrating tongue, the barking dog, which kept cautiously beyond striking
distance. There were lions heard in the night, making the cattle
uneasy, but they were not molested.
It was wonderful as a contrast that journey back, and Dyke often asked
himself, as he cantered about, sometimes to the side, sometimes letting
the wagon go for some distance forward, whether he had not been of poor
heart, and had made too much fuss over his troubles; but second thoughts
convinced him that he had had a terrible task, and he almost wondered
that he had been able to reach Morgenstern's at all.
Jack was the very perfection of a Kaffir servant now, driving
splendidly, and taking the greatest care as to the pasturing and
watering of the cattle; his young master never having to find fault with
a single thing.
But there was the reason plainly enough; and Dyke smiled to himself as
he thought of how easily the black had been impressed by the big old
German, though he felt that Jack's guilty conscience had something to do
with it.
Oddly enough, the dog's behaviour during the return journey helped to
keep Jack in order. For Duke, though his hurts were mending fast, was
still very weak. He was ready to bark and make plenty of fuss over his
master, but he did not evince the slightest desire to trot after him
when he rode away from the wagon. Duke seemed to know his own powers,
and went back directly to his place between the two hind wheels of the
wagon. There he stayed, keeping step pretty well with the bullocks.
But at every halt, when Jack proceeded to gather wood, drive the oxen to
water or pasture, the dog followed close at his heels, making no
demonstration of friendliness, never barking, but walking with lowered
head and surly look, just behind, stopping when the black did, going on
or returning, and never leaving him for a moment, and ending by going
back to his place under the wagon, and there resting his head upon his
paws.
Of course, all this was the sick dog's natural objection to being left
alone; but to Jack it meant a great deal more. That dog had always been
rather unfriendly, and was evidently a very uncanny kind of beast, which
could understand everything that was said to him, and would fully carry
out the old German's instructions. Duke followed him about to see that
he did his work properly, and as Jack walked on, he often felt the
sensation in his calves known as pins and needles, which made him wince
and tremble; and on one occasion he uttered a yell of horror, for the
dog's cold nose touched one of his bare ankles, and made him bound a
couple of yards.
For to him there was no doubt about the matter whatever. Duke was
watching everything he did, and the moment he relaxed his efforts, those
white teeth would close upon his leg; and if he had been talked to and
argued with for a week, he would never have believed that he would not
for a certainty go mad, die, and be thrown out upon the sands to the
jackals and vultures which hung about their nightly camps.
The consequence was that, saving a few of the trifling mishaps which
befall wagon travellers through the South African deserts, Dyke's return
journey was peaceful and enjoyable, even if slow. He would often have
liked to gallop forward to get nearer home; but the wagon held him as a
magnet does its bar, and he thoroughly fulfilled the trust placed in him
by his brother.
At last the morning dawned when a steady day's work would bring them to
Kopfontein, and starting at once, they got on a few miles before halting
for breakfast. Then went on for three hours; halted again to dine and
rest during the hottest part of the day. After which there was the
little river to ford a couple of miles farther on, and then twelve miles
would bring them home, late in the evening perhaps, but Dyke was
determined to finish before he slept.
Hardly had they settled down in the shelter of the wagon for that
mid-day halt, than Dyke found that the wagon-tilt would be useful for
something else besides keeping off the sun. For some clouds which had
been gathering all the morning, centred themselves at last directly
overhead; there was a succession of terrific peals of thunder following
upon blinding flashes of lightning, which seemed to play all round and
about the wagon, making Breezy stand shivering as he pressed close up
alongside, and drew the cattle together with their heads inward, as if
for mutual protection.
Then down came the rain in a perfect deluge, and for a good hour flash
and peal seemed to be engaged in trying to tear up the clouds, from
which the great drops of rain poured down.
The storm ceased as quickly as it had come on, and the rain having been
sucked up by the thirsty, sandy earth, so that when they started again,
save that the wagon-cover was soaked, drawn tight, and streaming, there
was no sign for a while of the storm. There were certainly the clouds
fading in the distance, but the sky overhead was of a glorious blue, the
little herbage they passed was newly washed and clean, and the drops
left sparkled in the brilliant sunshine.
What followed, then, came as a surprise.
They had gone on for some distance before it suddenly recurred to Dyke
that they had to cross the little river; and now, for the first time, he
became conscious of a low, soft murmur, as of insects swarming, but
this, though continuous, did not take his attention much, for he set it
down to a cloud of insects, roused from their torpor by the sun, and now
busily feeding, perhaps, close at hand, though invisible as he rode
gently along, breathing in with delight the sweet, cool air.
But at the end of half an hour the murmur had grown louder, and it
sounded louder still as he drew rein by some bushes to let Breezy crop
the moist shoots, while he waited for the wagon to come up, it being
about half a mile behind.
"How slowly and deliberately those beasts do move," thought Dyke, as he
watched the six sleek oxen, not a bit the worse for their journey,
plodding gravely along with the wagon lightly laden, as it was, for six
beasts to draw, bumping and swaying every now and then as a stone or two
stood up through the sand, he not being there to point them out to the
black, who sat on the wagon-box, with his chin upon his breast, rousing
himself from time to time to crack his whip and shout out some jargon to
the bullocks. These took not the slightest notice of whip-crack or
shout, but plodded slowly along, tossing their heads now and then, and
bringing their horns in contact with a loud rap.
At last they came up abreast, and Jack turned his dark face, and grinned
meaningly.
"What is it?" said Dyke. "Glad you are so near home?"
"No see Tanta Sal night," he said.
"Oh yes, we will," replied Dyke. "I mean to be home before we sleep."
Jack shook his head.
"You'll see, my fine fellow," said Dyke to himself. "If you are going
to begin any games just for a finish off on the last day, you'll find
you'll be startled. I'll set Duke at him, and scare the beggar," he
muttered, as he laughed to himself at the man's genuine belief in, and
alarm about, the dog; and in imagination he saw Jack hopping about and
yelling, and afraid to come down from the wagon-box in front on account
of Duke, who would be barking and dancing about as if trying to drag him
off.
He let the wagon go on then for a few yards, and hung back so as to say
a few cheery words to the dog, who responded with a sharp bark or two,
but did not come from beneath the wagon.
And now the noise grew louder and louder, till at last Dyke began to
divine the cause. A short distance farther the open plain was crossed
by an erratic line of trees and rocks, forming a green and grey zigzag
of some three hundred yards wide, and down in a hollow, hidden till
close up, there was the rivulet-like stream at which he had halted on
his outward way to let the animals drink.
It was from there, then, that the now rapidly increasing murmur arose,
and pressing his nag's sides, he rode rapidly on to reach the side of
the tiny bourn, which now proved to be a fierce torrent nearly a hundred
yards wide, raging amongst rocks, tossing up beady spray, and putting an
end to all his hopes of reaching home that night, for even as he looked
he could see that the water was rising still, and any attempt to ford
meant certain death to man and beast.
Dyke's heart sank. He knew now the meaning of the Kaffir's grin. It
was the first trouble of the homeward way.