Part 45 (2/2)

In spite of his cheerful s.n.a.t.c.hes of song, and his encouraging cries, the poor beasts showed more and more signs of distress, till at last Jan turned to Mrs. Gilbert and said, ”The poor oxen is just done up. We must outspan till it gets cooler.”

”What, outspan in this pitiless place, with not a house, or a tree, or water to be got at!” cried one of the girls.

”There is a water-hole down there,” said Jan, pointing to a dip in the ground not far off.

”Yes,” said Mrs. Gilbert, ”I have been down there on horseback.”

The wagon was drawn off the road, and the weary oxen let loose, while we stretched ourselves on the cartels, but found the heat too great to let us recover any of our lost sleep.

After a time some of us, thinking any change must be for the better, dragged ourselves out into the glare, and went to look at the pool of water. But though a few p.r.i.c.kly pears and mimosa bushes grew around, it was not an inviting spot to rest in, and we laboured back across the scorching ground to the wagon, our only benefit being more thankfulness for its shelter.

April had gone off to see that the oxen did not wander too far. Jan lighted a fire, made coffee for us, and broiled some meat and green mealie cobs.

We felt better after our meal, though we had not been hungry for it.

Then, to my surprise, Jan settled down to enjoy his share, as close to the fire as he could. I do not know if the burning scrub made a little motion in the air, or if Jan, by roasting one half of his body, felt the other cooler by contrast.

Presently I saw, coming slowly across the veldt, a white-haired Kafir, carrying a weakly lamb in his arms. He made straight for Jan and sat down beside him.

Constance, who was looking out too, roused herself and gave a little laugh. ”Caught,” she said, and I knew what she meant.

At first the palaver seemed amiable enough, and we saw Jan even go the length of making a present of grilled mutton--chiefly bone, but not all.

”An attempt at bribery,” murmured Constance.

In about half an hour we heard the inevitable demand. One might have thought Jan had never heard of outspan money, instead of its being a familiar and heating subject with him. When at last the claim was made clear to him, he asked the name of the Baas, and expressed the greatest surprise that any man could be so mean as to ask for money, just because poor souls had to wait by the road till it got cool, when it was too hot even for the oxen to eat anything.

The explanation that the place was such a convenient distance from town, that if nothing was charged the Baas would have nothing left for his own flocks and herds, was badly received, as was also the reminder that if it was too hot for the oxen to eat much, they would drink all the same.

The two argued for an hour, Jan emphatic and expostulating, the old Kafir calm, feeling both right and law were on his side.

[Sidenote: ”We shan't Pay”]

At length, Jan surprised us by announcing, ”We shan't pay. Your Baas won't expect money from me anyhow, if he does from other people.”

”Why not?” exclaimed the other in surprise, for Jan spoke with conviction.

”My Baas' wife is cousin to your Baas' wife, so of course we're free on his veldt.”

We laughed, but the collector remarked that he would go and inquire. So he marched up to the wagon, followed closely by Lang-Jan, in fear of treachery, and asked Mrs. Gilbert if it was true, and being informed that the ladies were related, he retired at once, and Jan triumphantly accompanied him back to the fire.

I thought Jan would be happy now the wicked had ceased from troubling, but the storm had its after-roll. He now expressed indignation that two s.h.i.+llings had been demanded. If such an iniquitous claim was made at all, one s.h.i.+lling was all that should be asked for.

They harried this point till the stranger asked Jan what odds it was to him--he did not pay the money.

”Don't I pay the money?” cried Jan. ”Isn't it taken out of my very hand?”

”Oh, ja! But it comes out of the Baas' pocket.”

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