Part 45 (1/2)

”What do you mean by stopping a wagon in the road like this? Outspan money? We have not outspanned and are not going to on your starved old veldt.”

”Jan, Jan, you know very well we are owing him two s.h.i.+llings from the last time we pa.s.sed,” said Constance.

The stranger Kafir tried to get to the wagon, but Jan barred the pa.s.sage. He changed his tactics. ”Come, let's fight for it,” he cried, casting his hat and scarlet head-handkerchief into the karoo out of the way.

This offer was declined without thanks. ”I shan't fight. The money is mine,” protested the other, encouraged by finding his demand was allowed by the ladies.

”April, leave the oxen and come here,” called Constance. ”Give this money to him.”

[Sidenote: Jan's Principles]

This was done at last, to Jan's grief. ”Ah, Mees Constance! Why didn't you let me fight him? he was only a little thieving Fingo dog! I didn't outspan in sight of his old hut, and he must have come sneaking around and seen us, and never said he would have money till it was too late.”

”Well, Jan, and why should our oxen eat up the gra.s.s and drink out of the dam without our paying?” asked Constance; but Jan only muttered, ”Thief! Dog!” and got away from the scene of his defeat with speed.

”That was why we were obliged to start in the middle of the night: Jan wanted to slip by here before the wagon could be recognised,” said Constance. Jan had made a stand for his principles, though his mistress's perverted sense of justice had prevented his being able to carry them out. By the time we stopped for breakfast he had quite recovered his spirits; and when he found he had got his party well away from the place without another hateful demand, he seemed to have forgotten his hard fate in the early morning. When we reached the town we lost sight of Jan and his wagon for a couple of days, and took up our abode at an hotel.

A change had taken place in our party when we collected for the second and longer part of our journey. Mr. Gilbert had gone home with some of the younger ones the day before, while his wife had stayed in town to take the rest of us to a ball.

We were all tired as we reached the wagon, with our minds running on the purchases we had made, and lingering regretfully on some we had not.

Lang-Jan and April hurried off to fetch the oxen as soon as we appeared; and Mrs. Gilbert began to go through the stores.

”Those two Kafirs have eaten up our b.u.t.ter!” she exclaimed indignantly.

”I saw what was left when you came, and thought it might not be quite enough. It is lucky I did, and have bought some more, or we should have had none at all. I cannot let such a thing as their taking our provisions pa.s.s without notice.--Jan,” she said, when he returned, ”you have taken my b.u.t.ter.”

”Oh, Meeses!” exclaimed Jan, as if such a thing was quite out of the question, ”not me. It must ha' bin April.”

”No, Meeses--not me, Jan,” said April.

”It was both of you, I have no doubt,” said Mrs. Gilbert severely.

”Oh, Meeses, April, April!” cried Jan, shaking his head.

”No, it was Jan,” protested the leader, again.

Jan burst into a roar of laughter, like a naughty child owning up. ”Oh!

ja, Meeses! It was me. I looked at that tin of b.u.t.ter and then I said to April, 'I must have some of that lovely b.u.t.ter, whatever comes of it,'

and then between us, it's all gone.”

It seemed impossible to deal with the offence gravely after that. ”I shall know I must not leave any in the wagon another time,” said the mistress; and we scrambled into our places to be out of the way while the work of inspanning went on.

[Sidenote: A Fiery Day]

The morning turned into a fiery day. The air s.h.i.+mmered blindingly above the veldt, and the white road, inches deep in dust, trailed ahead like an endless serpent. We panted and gasped under the shelter of the tent; April abandoned his post and climbed up in the back compartment of the wagon, but Jan grew more and more lively.

He tightened his waist-belt and ran by the side of his team, encouraging them by voice and example.

He wore an old soft felt hat, with a perfectly abject brim, above his scarlet handkerchief, and every quarter of a mile he would take it off and put the ostrich feather that adorned one side straight up, and attempt to pinch the limp brim into shape.