"Well, Sellon, here we are--or, rather, here am I--at home again."
The buggy, running lightly over the hard level ground, looked as dusty
and travel-worn as the three horses that drew it, or as its two inmates.
The red ball of the sun was already half behind the treeless sky line,
and away over the plain the brown and weather-beaten walls of Renshaw's
uninviting homestead had just come into view.
Very different now, however, was the aspect of affairs to when we first
saw this out-of-the-world desert farm. With the marvellous
recuperativeness of the Karroo plains the veldt was now carpeted with
the richest grass, spangled with a hundred varying species of delicate
wild flowers. Yet, as the two men alighted at the door, there was
something in the desolate roughness of the empty house that struck them
both, after the comforts and cheery associations of Sunningdale.
"Home, sweet home; eh, Sellon?" continued Renshaw, grimly. "Well, it
won't be for long. One day's rest for ourselves and horses, and the day
after to-morrow we'll start. Hallo, Kaatje, where's old Dirk, by the
way?"
The Koranna woman's voluble and effusive greeting seemed damped by the
question. She answered, guiltily--
"Old Dirk, Baas? He went away to visit his brother at Bruintjes Kraal--
and bring back half a dozen goats which he sent over there before the
drought. I expect him back this evening--any evening."
"That's what comes of putting these wretched people into a position of
trust," said Renshaw, bitterly. "How long has he been away, Kaatje?"
"Only a week, Baas. Don't be _kwaai_ with Dirk, Baas. My nephew
Marthinus has been taking his place right well--right well. Don't be
_kwaai_ with Dirk, _myn lieve Baas_!"
But Renshaw was very much disgusted. The old man had been with him for
years, and he had always found him honest and trustworthy far beyond his
people. Yet no sooner was his back turned than the fellow abandoned his
post forthwith.
"This is rather annoying, Sellon," he said. "Here old Dirk has gone
spreeing around somewhere, and goodness only knows when he'll be back.
I meant to have taken him with us this time. He might have been
useful."
"Ever taken him before?"
"No. I didn't want too many people in the secret. This time it
wouldn't matter, because we shall find the place."
"You seem strangely confident, Fanning," said Sellon, thinking of the
missing document.
"I am. I've a sort of superstition I shall hit upon it this time.
However, come in, and we'll make ourselves as comfortable as we can,
with the trapful of luxuries from more civilised parts. It'll be canned
goods to-night, I'm afraid. It's too late to order the execution of a
goat."
Having seen Marthinus, above alluded to, and who was a smartish
Hottentot lad, outspan the buggy and stow away the harness, Renshaw
strolled round to the kraals. Alas! the remnant of his flocks--now a
mere handful--huddled away in a corner, spoke volumes as to the recent
devastation. But the animals, though few, were quite in condition
again.
The gloaming fell, and still he lingered on there alone. Sellon, who
never favoured unnecessary exertion, had established himself indoors
with a cigar and some brandy-and-water. The darkling plain in its
solemn silence was favourable to meditation, and the return to his
solitary home aroused in Renshaw a keen sense of despondency. What if
this new expedition should prove a failure? If so, it should be the
last. Come what might, nothing in the world should induce him further
to inhabit this woefully depressing and thoroughly unprofitable place.
Rather would he gather together his little all, and resume the wild
wandering hunter life away in the far interior, and hand in hand with
this resolve Christopher Selwood's offer stood forth alluringly. Dear
old Sunningdale! Life near there might be worth living after all--
Violet Avory apart. But then arose the absurd scruples of a sensitive
nature. Quick, to the verge of folly, in benefiting others, when it
became a question of himself the recipient of a good turn Renshaw's
pride rose up in an effective barrier. And although the tie of
friendship between them was closer than might have been that of
brotherhood, he could recognise, or thought he could, in Selwood's
offer--a disguised method of conferring a favour upon himself. Not that
he failed to appreciate it, but he could not bring himself to lie under
an obligation even to his dearest friend. A strange character that of
this man, so self-sacrificing and so single-hearted; so sensitive, so
scrupulous in the most delicate fibres of the mind and conscience, yet
adamant in the face of peril; strong, resourceful when confronted with
privation. A character formed of a life of solitude and hardship, a
character that would be an anachronism--an anomaly--in the whirring
clatter of old world and money-grubbing life.
"Hallo, Fanning! What has become of you?"
The loud, jovial hail of his mercurial friend recalled him to himself
and the duties of hospitality. Sell on, tired of his own company, had
lounged to the door.
"I thought you had concluded to go on the hunt for your runaway nigger,
old chap," he said, as the other came up.
"Only been looking round the kraals, and, I'm afraid, `mooning' a
little," answered Renshaw, with a laugh. But there were times when his
friend's inexhaustible easiness of spirits jarred upon him.
The next day was spent in making preparations for the trip. Crowbars
and long coils of raw-hide rope for climbing purposes--provisions and
other necessaries to be loaded up were carefully sorted and packed--nor
were firearms and a plentiful supply of cartridges overlooked. By
nightfall everything was in thorough readiness for an early start.
Only, the missing Dirk did not appear, a fact which had the effect of
strangely annoying, not to say angering, Dirk's normally philosophical
and easy-going master.