Part 4 (2/2)
”H'm! 'ee may ask that.”
A burst of noisy laughter just behind them caused the lost ones to turn abruptly, when they observed four tall young men of gentlemanly aspect sitting in a small military tent, and much amused apparently at their moist condition.
”Why, where did you two fellows come from?” asked one of the youths, issuing from the tent.
”From England and Scotland,” replied Jerry Goldboy promptly.
”From the sea, I should say,” returned the youth, ”to judge from your wet garments.”
”Ay, we've been drookit,” said Sandy Black.
”Bring 'em in, Jack,” shouted one of the other youths in the tent.
”Come inside,” said he who was styled Jack, ”and have a gla.s.s of whisky.
There's nothing like whisky to dry a wet skin, is there, Scotty?”
To this familiar appeal Sandy replied, ”m-h'm,” which word, we may add for the information of foreigners, is the Scotch for ”Yes.”
”Sit down there on the blankets,” said the hospitable Jack, ”we haven't got our arm-chairs or tables made yet. Allow me to introduce my two brothers, James and Robert Skyd; my own name is the less common one of John. This young man of six feet two, with no money and less brain, is not a brother--only a chum--named Frank Dobson. Come, fill up and drink, else you'll catch a cold, or a South African fever, if there is such a thing. Whom shall I pledge?”
”My name is Jerry Goldboy,” said the Englishman; ”your health, gentlemen.”
”'Am Sandy Black,” said the Scot; ”here's t'ee.”
”Well, Mr Black and Mr Coldboy”--Goldboy, interposed Jerry--”I speak for my brothers and friend when I wish you all success in the new land.”
”Do talk less, Jack,” said Robert Skyd, the youngest brother, ”and give our friends a chance of speaking--Have you come ash.o.r.e lately!”
”Just arrived,” answered Jerry.
”I thought so. You belong to the Scotch party that goes to Baviaans River, I suppose?” asked Frank Dobson.
This question led at length to a full and free account of the circ.u.mstances and destination of each party, with which however we will not trouble the reader in detail.
”D'ee ken onything aboot Baviaans River?” inquired Sandy Black, after a variety of subjects had been discussed.
”Nothing whatever,” answered John Skyd, ”save that it is between one and two hundred miles--more or less--inland among the mountains, and that its name, which is Dutch, means the River of Baboons, its fastnesses being filled with these gentry.”
”Ay, I've heard as much mysel',” returned Sandy, ”an' they say the craters are gey fierce. Are there ony o' the big puggies in the Albany district?”
”No, none. Albany is too level for them. It lies along the sea-coast, and is said to be a splendid country, though uncomfortably near the Kafirs.”
”The Kawfirs. Ay. H'm!” said Sandy, leaving his hearers to form their own judgment as to the meaning of his words.
”An' what may _your_ tred be, sir?” he added, looking at John Skyd.
The three brothers laughed, and John replied--
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