Part 11 (1/2)
He walked briskly to the house to fetch a basket and disappeared into the vineyard, returning shortly with a plentiful supply of luscious grapes.
”Thank you, Jim. Enough for a week!” Hansie laughed, and he looked pleased as he went off in the direction of the river.
A few moments later, half concealed by the shrubs and rank gra.s.s with which the lower part of Harmony was overrun, Hansie noticed two stooping figures in khaki, moving forward cautiously and then making sudden dashes at some object, invisible to the girl. She watched them intently, wondering who the intruders were and what their game could be, until they came so near that she was able to distinguish what it was they nourished in their hands. b.u.t.terfly nets!
A pair of harmless Tommies, spending their Sunday morning in catching b.u.t.terflies and the other insects of which there abounded so large a variety at that time of the year.
They did not catch sight of the girl until Carlo sprang up barking furiously, and then they started back in consternation and surprise.
”Lie down, Carlo,” Hansie commanded sharply. ”Good morning,” to the men.
”Good morning, miss,” respectfully; ”I hope we are not intrudin'.”
”Certainly not. Are you catching b.u.t.terflies? Show me what you have got.”
The men produced their spoil with pride.
”Will you have some grapes?” Hansie asked, handing the basket to one of them, who helped himself gratefully and then pa.s.sed it on to his comrade. The latter, evidently not of a very sociable disposition, took a bunch and walked off in pursuit of more b.u.t.terflies.
The first soldier, however, squatted down on the ground at some little distance from the girl and began to talk, as he ate the grapes with great relish. At this point Carlo raised himself with the utmost deliberation, yawned, stretched himself, and sauntering (I cannot call it anything except _sauntering_) slowly towards his mistress, laid his full length on the ground between her and the Tommy. Then he went sound asleep to all appearances, but his mistress observed that when the soldier made the slightest movement, the dog's ears twitched or an eyelid quivered.
Slowly eating his grapes, the man glanced curiously at the book on Hansie's lap.
”Are you sketchin', miss?” he asked.
”No; writing.”
”Poetry?”
There was no answer.
”I am one of Lord Kitchener's body-guard,” he went on presently. ”We are encamped near Berea Park on the other side of your fence. We were in Middelburg last week and I saw one of the Boer Generals, General Botha.”
Hansie's heart bounded. She looked at the man incredulously.
”Indeed! How was that possible?”
”Quite simple, miss. Lord Kitchener invited the General into town to have an interview with him. His brother--I think his name is Christian--came with him. I acted as their orderly.”
”Tell me more, tell me everything,” the girl's voice shook with ill-controlled emotion.
”There were five or six other men with them. They arrived at about nine in the morning and stayed until half-past four that afternoon.
They had lunch with Lord Kitchener. A fine man the General is, well set up, big and broad-shouldered.”
”Yes, I know.” Hansie _could not_ withhold those words.
”You know!” he exclaimed in great surprise. ”Do _you_ know General Botha?”
”Yes, indeed. And what is more, he is _my_ General.”