Chapter II: Part 2

Jack laid his head on the ostrich's neck, and fairly sobbed in his dread of the consequences. The sound of a scolding voice in the farm-yard made him look up. As he was still perched on Vickel's back, he had a good view of the farm-house and its surroundings, through the slit which Vickel had made in the tilt on the previous day.

Sannie's screams had brought one of the Kafir maids to see what was the matter. She snatched the torn pinafore off the unfortunate little toddler, and held it up before Tante Milligen, whose head appeared above the half-door of the house at the same moment. The Dutch mother left her kneading trough, and tucking up the corner of her wide white apron, rushed out upon her youngest born, scolding and threatening at the top of her voice. Behind her crept Genderen, in her long blue and white checked pinafore reaching to the toes of her home-made sheep-skin shoes. The brown sun-kappje she was tying on very much resembled the head-gear of a Sister of Mercy.

Jack would have laughed at the grotesque figures before him if he had not been so full of consternation, a feeling which Genderen's pale face seemed to reciprocate.

"Footsack, Zyl," she cried.

And now Jack laughed in spite of his anxieties as the meaning of the queer Dutch word was made plain to him; for in accordance with his sister's advice, Zyl made a dart at the side gate into the farm-yard, but the Kafir maid frustrated his intention by setting her back against it.

The vocabulary of the scold in Dutch is by no means a limited one, and Tante Milligen seemed as if she would exhaust it all in her indignation at the state of Sannie's pinafore.

Poor Sannie's words were rendered unintelligible by her sobs; and Zyl was caught beyond all hope of escape. He stood before his angry mother, stolid and sullen as a young buffalo, and never opened his lips, whilst she knocked their heads together until Genderen began to cry in sympathy. But not one word of excuse or complaint would the Dutch boy utter.

How Jack's heart warmed to him, for he could so easily have told of Vickel and screened himself; but to see the baby struck was more than Jack could endure. He sprang off Vickel's back, and scooping great handfuls of mealies out of the hole in the sack, he left her eating them, and rushed to the gate. But Zyl, in his fear that the ostrich might follow him, had fastened it inside.

Jack knocked and shouted, "Mrs. Immerseel, Mrs. Immerseel, don't beat that poor little baby. Oh, pray don't. She could not help it. Let me in, and I'll tell you how it happened."

The Kafir maid opened the gate in answer to his summons; but, oh, it was dreadful to find no one could understand a single word he said. He marched up to Tante Milligen, and lifted his pent-house of a hat, as he had seen his father lift his, and held out his hand. But, alas, it looked so dirty, he drew it back again in disgust.

Although Jack's attempted explanations were all in vain, his sudden appearance created a diversion. Tante Milligen, supposing he had come to beg for a breakfast, smiled at him good-naturedly, and pointed to the kitchen-door. Jack shook his head, and tried to get between her and little Sannie.

"What can the child want?" thought the Dutch woman. "Something wrong with his father's beasts perhaps." So she sent her Kafir maid to see.

Off bounded Jack as soon as he perceived her destination, for he knew if he did not get to the waggon before her, Vickel would be sure to fly at her. He was white as ashes with fear as he scrambled on to the low, broad wheel, and stood with one eye on the ostrich and the other on the Kafir.

Jack half hoped, as they were both African born, they might take to each other. He was right so far; the Kafir was too wise to interfere with his bird, and Vickel, who was still quietly feeding, took no notice of her. The maid looked all round, saw that the oxen were quietly grazing, and feeling convinced there was nothing amiss, turned to Jack. He did not like the queer black creature, with her bare arms and legs, to stare at him so. She was not like his yellow-faced Tottie, who always wore a woman's gown, and on Sundays a clean white cap as well; and from this semi-savage, in her scarlet blanket, he shrank. Why wouldn't she go away?

It was very horrid to be stared at, so Jack got into the waggon to escape from those glittering, bead-like eyes, and away went the Kafir singing.

Her song called forth a burst of laughter from a Hottentot herdsman, who was coming to lead the oxen to water. Happily for Jack, he could speak a little English.

"No like de Black Antelope," he said with a grin; "much she likee you. Listen how she go, making songs of 'Dis pretty Ingleese lamb, left alone on de wide, wide veldt.'"

Then Jack laughed in his turn, and was rather glad to hear that she had gone to fetch him some breakfast.

But he could not forget little Sannie. Standing up tip-toe on the top of the chest, he once more reconnoitred the entrance to Jaarsveldt through the slit in the tilt.

Zyl had disappeared, but Genderen was trying to comfort to comfort her little sister. She took her in her arms and carried her round the farm-yard, holding her up to watch the little pigs tumbling one over another in their play. But it was of no use; the pitiful sobs continued. Then Genderen brought her outside the gate to try the diversion of a little walk, pointing out the Englishman's waggon, and trying to teach her to call "Jock! Jock Trairbee!"

Of course, poor Sannie only screamed the louder, and struggling from her sister's arms, ran away. Genderen's freckled face was pink with fatigue.

Jack ran to her help with his "Illustrated News." But Sannie would not look at him; so he took out the loose picture that was folded in it and spread it before them on the grass, with a nod to Genderen, and ran off.

It was happiness to Jack to watch the delight of the sisters from his peep-hole, as they cuddled together with the picture on their knees. There they sat, sucking the thumb of one hand, and tracing with the other the different figures in the picture.

When the Black Antelope returned with a bowl of milk and a hot roaster-cake, Jack felt unable to enjoy his breakfast and do full justice to Tante Milligen's hospitality. His head was aching and his hands were hot, so he sank down in his grassy nest to read his "Illustrated News," and was nearly falling asleep when a great stone was aimed at Vickel's head.

Jack was up in a moment, ready to defend his pet, for he caught sight of Zyl picking up a second stone under the garden wall.

With a great shout of defiance the two boys rushed at each other, and in spite of all Jack's father had said, a fight between English and Dutch was imminent. But Genderen's brown sun-kappje suddenly appeared on the scene, with the Hottentot cow-keeper behind it. The sister was evidently warning and her follower threatening the unmanageable youngster with "ein lecker slaat" when the "oom" came back, if he persisted in annoying the English boy. Zyl bent his head as if he were a young goat about to butt, but never uttered a word even to his sister.

He might throw stones at Vickel by way of revenge for her attack; but, for all that, he was not going to tell tales. Jack grew hot and cold by turns, for he thought there would be no mercy for his bird if it were known that she was the true culprit who had torn the pinafore, and his gratitude to Zyl for so doggedly holding his tongue got the better of his anger. The arm he had raised to strike the stone front the Dutch boy's hand went lovingly round his neck instead. Jack drew himself up beside him with a look at Genderen which said, "We two understand other; just let us alone, please."

Zyl gave him the queerest of glances from the corner of his eye. It was becoming evident to his slow intellect that Jack, having shared in the scrape, was ready to take his share in the punishment also. He rather liked that, and the grip which he gave Jack's other hand was as hearty as it was crushing.

V.

_MAKING FRIENDS._

GENDEREN alone, of all the Boer's household, had found out the truth from little Sannie's sobbing complaints. Dull and heavy as she appeared, there was more in her than Jack imagined. She suspected her brother of teasing the ostrich, but was so frightened at the thought of Sannie's danger that she could not rest. Her first care was to get the boys into the garden. The Black Antelope followed with Jack's untested breakfast—the bowl of milk and the once hot roaster-cake. There was twice as much as he could eat, but Zyl was quite ready to assist him with the overplus. They sat down together on one of the garden seats in the midst of a grove of orange-trees.

Genderen shook down some of their golden fruit to fill the English boy's pockets. Jack took out his precious "Illustrated News" to make room for them, and whilst the important business of the breakfast proceeded, Zyl stretched himself on the grass, absorbed in the delight its many pictures afforded.

When Genderen saw the two boys she had caught fighting had struck up such a sudden friendship, she felt somewhat amazed. Fearing it was too warm to last, she slipped away to execute the second part of her plan as quickly as she could. To feed the young ostrich chicks was Genderen's daily task, therefore she was not at all afraid of Vickel herself. Filling her lap with food, she went into the farm-yard, and calling her own majestic hen with her fluffy brood, began to feed them.

The cries of the young birds soon brought Vickel out of the waggon. Genderen saw her bright eyes peeping over the wall at her feathered kin. Then the Dutch girl showered the corn from her lap, inviting Vickel to come over the wall and share the feast; but the ostrich was shy, and retreated.

"No, she cannot get over the wall," thought the Dutch girl; "and if I can but coax her into the yard, she will be safe out of the children's way, or there will be more mischief between them, for somehow or other this bird is at the bottom of it."

Acting upon this conviction, she did her utmost to tempt the clever bird to follow her, but in vain. At last she set the gate wide open, and leading out the biggest of her chickens, she let them walk before the waggon, trusting that Vickel would join them of her accord. Ostriches have a decided partiality for women and girls, and when Genderen began to call her chicks together, Vic put her head on one side and listened.

The impression was deepened when a few grains of corn were flung at Vickel's feet. She eyed them askance for a while, but as the chicks moved on, she condescended to taste. Having once tasted, and found the breakfast Genderen provided for her chicks was much better than her own, she continued to follow them slowly and at a considerable distance, picking up the grains of corn Genderen was careful to scatter in their rear.

As the girl drew near the gate, the Hottentot came to her assistance. A heap of corn was placed in Vickel's sight to invite her to enter; and when she hovered hesitatingly round the gate of plenty, the cowherd cracked his whip behind her. In she flew with a bound. The gate was gently closed, and Jack's pet was a prisoner. Genderen, very happy in the success of her manœuvre, returned to the house.

Beautiful as the Boer's garden seemed to Jack on that lovely summer morning, he did not care to stay there long. His father had told him he must take care of all the things in the waggon, and he wanted to go back to it. But Zyl, who valued the pictures in the "Illustrated News" almost more than Jack himself, was loath to let them go. His sullen face lit up at the sight of men on horseback with their dogs at their side, and soldiers drawn up in battle array. Tents, too, and Japanese pagodas, all of which he must scrutinize until each picture was made out to his own satisfaction.

Jack's impatience nearly upset the good understanding so recently established between them; but nothing could turn the young Boer from his purpose. He had made up his mind to see all there was to be seen in the beautiful English paper, and he would. To add to Jack's uneasiness, he was sure he heard his ostrich calling; but after his father's charge to take care of the paper, he was afraid to go away without it. He tried to take it out of Zyl's hand, promising to bring it again.

But Zyl, who could not understand Jack's English, only retorted, "Jah! Jah!" and held it fast.

Then Jack ran to the gate, but Zyl was before him. The upper bolt, which was high above Jack's head, was drawn, and the Dutch boy stood laughing. Then he gave Jack a brotherly hug, and led him round the garden.

"Don't go," said Zyl by every action. He put back the little linen tents which were dotted about the beds, and showed him the lovely flowers blooming beneath their grateful shadows.

Oh, what a contrast to Jack's garden at home! The roses here seemed to spring up as easily as thistles, and the tulips from the Dutchman's "father-land" seemed to Jack, with his exceeding love of flowers, like fairy bells. And then the grapes and peaches, shining in their glossy leaves, filled him wonder and admiration. How was it all done? Why could not their garden at home be made like it?

He began to think these rough Boers knew more than he did after all. Perhaps he could find out how they managed it.

There was one particular corner at which Zyl paused with evident pride. It was a perfect square, marked off from the rest of the garden by a row of flowering cactus. In the angle of the wall stood a clumsy, three-cornered stool, which Zyl endeavoured to make Jack understand was his own handiwork. The frame of an old umbrella had been nailed to the wall, and as its silk covering had altogether disappeared, it had been skilfully thatched with grass. Two young creeping-plants were making haste to climb the wall to reach it.

A small orange-tree, which could have seen little more than a single summer, was planted in the very centre of the little square, with a ring of rice-plants round it, brought from an unfrequented dell among the neighbouring rocks. A circular path divided this from the side borders, where Jack observed an abundant crop of seed springing up in the shape of a Dutch "Z."

This was enough for Jack. He guessed once it was Zyl's own garden. How he envied him the possession. But this was a bad feeling, and Jack crushed it in its birth, smothering it with a burning desire to emulate the Dutch boy's skill, and, if possible, surpass it.

"I must have the seat big enough for two," thought Jack, "and father and I could have our supper there."

So the time slid by until Genderen returned, leading Sannie in a clean pinafore, with both her chubby hands filled with sweets, the Dutch child's delight. She held out one to Jack, who had given her the "beauty picture."

As he stooped to take it, he softly parted the curly mop of flaxen hair, and looked ruefully at the darkening bruise it shaded. This reminded him of Vickel.

"I must, I ought to go and look after her," he thought.

Now, Jack could climb like a cat; and as he despaired of making his new friends understand how much he wanted to go back to his father's waggon, he suddenly leaped upon Zyl's seat, and was over the wall in a moment. His astonished companions stared after him with their fingers in their mouths, utterly amazed. They would have said only a Kafir could have done it.

Once outside the wall of Jaarsveldt, Jack ran eagerly to the waggon. The oxen were leisurely ruminating. Everything was right but Vickel. Where was Vickel? A cry of bitter self-reproach burst from his lips. He tried to call her name, but his voice failed him. All the terrible excitement he had undergone seemed to culminate in that moment. A cold shiver ran through him, for this new trouble was of his own making. If he had not left Vickel so long, he would not have lost her.

He was blaming himself too keenly to know what he was doing. He tried to call her, but his voice sounded hoarse, and unlike his own. The echo from the neighbouring rocks repeated his heart-breaking call. He did not know what an echo was, and believed that some one else was calling his bird in the distance. Off he set, as fast as he could go, hoping to overtake the unknown somebody who was tempting his pet away. Once he thought he heard his ostrich screaming behind him. He paused, completely bewildered.

No; it was only Zyl shouting to him to stop. But Jack had had enough of Zyl's company for the present, and would not comply. So the two chased each other over the red sand, nearer and nearer to those sombre mosses of frowning brown which had exercised such a power over Jack's imagination.

The heat was now intense, but there was neither sight nor sound of Vickel. He ran till he could run no further, and had hardly breath enough left to call her name. Then he remembered Genderen's oranges, and sitting down under one of the low karroo bushes, which reminded him of home, he began to eat them. This helped him to recover his voice, and putting both hands to his mouth, he once more shouted, "Vickel," and again the rocks gave back his cry.

At this moment an ox-cart drove slowly out of one of the rocky defiles, in the direction of Jaarsveldt. Zyl, who was gaining on his flying friend, saw it also, and apparently recognizing the two men who were in it, waved his hat and shouted in his turn.

The Hottentot driver turned the head of his ox towards the boys, whilst his companion answered Zyl with the "view halloo" of an English sportsman.

Jack sprang to his feet at the sound of an English voice, realizing for the first time in his life all that word "countryman" means in a foreign land.

The ox-cart rumbled on. Zyl was running to meet it with eager joy. Jack had no eyes for the Hottentot driver; all his attention was centred on the big sun-umbrella which almost covered his companion.

As the boys came up to the cart, it was swung backwards. The owner of the umbrella, an aristocratic-looking young Englishman of twenty-two or twenty-three, held out his hand to Zyl with a smile. It was a pleasant smile as far as it went, for it only played around his lips; it never reached his eyes. About them there was a reckless, "don't care" expression which rather repelled Jack; but Zyl was obviously delighted to meet him.

"Please, sir, have you seen an ostrich?" asked Jack.

"Yes, dozens, my little man. But what is that to you?" was the somewhat curt reply.

"Please, sir, I have lost my Vickel, my own tame ostrich, and I have heard somebody calling her over there, the way you came," added Jack, pointing to the rocks.

"Somebody!" repeated the stranger, shaking with laughter. "I rather think it was Mr. Nobody. You little fool, to go chasing an echo! Come, jump in, both of you; for we are all risking a sunstroke crossing the veldt at noon. I did not bargain to be so late, I assure you."

Then he turned to Zyl and asked some questions in Dutch, to which the young Boer responded with more alacrity than usual. He scrambled up into the cart at once, trying to pull Jack after him.

"No, thanks," persisted Jack; "I don't want to ride; I must find my bird."

"Nonsense!" retorted the stranger. "Jump in this minute, or you will lose yourself. And where on earth will you be so likely to find your bird as in the ostrich camp at the next farm?"

"Perhaps you are right, sir," said Jack brightening.

"Boys do not say 'perhaps' to me," he continued, seating the two between himself and the Hottentot driver, who was by no means pleasant as a near neighbour on so hot a day.

Zyl got close to the Englishman, as if he had a special right to appropriate him, so Jack turned to the Hottentot, who did not laugh at his trouble, and promised readily, if he saw an ostrich with scorched wings, to catch her. Jack ventured to ask him in a whisper who the Englishman was that he was driving.

"He no father of mine," answered the driver; for to him father and master meant the same. "He be a Ingleese, who come and go from farm to farm, and he do cram little boys' heads with big words for three long days, till they sleepy, sleepy."

At this description of himself and his present occupation as itinerant schoolmaster, the Englishman laughed until he shook again. Then he laid one arm on Zyl's broad shoulders, and leaned across to question Jack.

"What makes you so curious about me?" he asked.

"Because you are an Englishman, and so is my father," replied the little fellow.

"Then I have a great mind to come and see him and cram your empty head; but mind you, if I find you going sleepy, sleepy, this will pretty quickly wake you up again," retorted the boyish schoolmaster, shaking the cane he carried.

Jack grew very red, being painfully conscious of his own short-comings; but he answered manfully, "I shouldn't be sleepy in the morning."

"All right," laughed the schoolmaster. "Zyl has been telling me all about you, John Treby, junior. Just give that to your father," he continued, tearing a leaf out of his pocket-book on which was written, "Sandford Algarkirke."

"Father will come back to Jaarsveldt to fetch me and the waggon, and then I will give it to him," answered Jack promptly.

"Will he come to-night?"

"Oh yes," answered Jack.

"Better and better!" cried young Algarkirke. "Then I shall see him to-night. I have not spoken to an Englishman for seven months. What part of the old country did your father come from?"

"Nottingham," returned Jack. "He told me only last night—no, I mean the last night at home, just before the thieves came—never to forget I have a grandfather living at Nottingham."

"Nottingham!" exclaimed Algarkirke in a tone that bordered on alarm, while for a moment the reckless "don't care" expression was banished from his brow.

VI.

_THREE DAYS WITH THE BOOKS._

THE arrival of the schoolmaster quickened the slow paces of the Boer's family. The thrifty "tante" was anxious to make the most of his three days' sojourn.

The Black Antelope had dragged off Zyl and Sannie to the wash-tub. Being in disgrace already, they submitted, but not without a pout and a grimace at the inordinate scrubbing the zealous creature thought it her duty to inflict. Genderen, she insisted, ought to show her respect for "the man of books" by taking off the long checked pinafore and exhibiting the brightly-flowered cotton dress beneath it.

The Black Antelope's veneration for a man who make a white sheet talk, by just sprinkling it with something black, knew no bounds. She would have remained all day watching her charges whilst the lessons were going forward if her mistress would have allowed it, on the "qui vive" for other magical performances perhaps as wonderful. This was certainly a sign that pen and ink were not often required in the Boer's household when the schoolmaster was not present.

Tante Milligen was seated on the lumbering settee, smoothing down the sides of her voluminous apron, whilst the schoolmaster did justice to the ample lunch she had provided for him. Whilst he ate, she enlarged upon her own and her husband's satisfaction with their present arrangements. She hoped they were doing their duty by their children. They had always taken them to church twice a year, although it was such a long way to Pretoria; but now they had a schoolmaster in the neighbourhood again, they must all make up for lost time.

Young Algarkirke was not slow at taking a hint, so he professed himself quite ready to begin lessons at once.

The Black Antelope bustled in her charges, with their freckled faces polished to a deep rose-pink, and arranged the chairs. Books were brought out and selected from the heterogeneous contents of the capacious cupboard, and slates were dusted.

Sandford Algarkirke looked at Sannie with some dismay, for she was an addition to the party quite outside his hopes or expectations.

"She is young," remarked Tante Milligen; "but she will have to make a beginning some day, and there is no time like the present. We don't keep any schoolmaster amongst us over-long, and then there is often a year or two before we get another to settle, so I hope you will let her take her turn with her brother and sister."

Forthwith the assiduous Kafir produced an additional cushion, which raised the would-be learner to the level of the big table, and darting upon a Latin grammar Mr. Algarkirke had just taken out of his own pocket, she laid it open before her with great solemnity.

"That will do," said Tante Milligen, pointing her domestic to the door. "Now bring me that pinafore, and I'll see how I can patch it."

"Inkosi! (Kafir for mistress) Inkosi!" exclaimed the excited black. "One word, and I will trouble your ears no more this day. The little Ingleese lamb without a mother lies weeping in the dust by his father's oxen. Why? Because he is shut out while the books speak. Open to him, inkosi, that he too may learn wisdom."

"Listen to our black spider," muttered Zyl. "Has not she got eyes all round her head, and feet that can run every way at once? Oh, we are just dummies and blocks beside her."

"Be still," whispered Genderen; "she'll get him in."

"Let him come, then," said Tante Milligen.

"By all means," added the schoolmaster warmly.

A swifter messenger than the Black Antelope never lived. She ran at her fastest now. The fleetness of foot had won for her her name. But her volubility was lost on Jack, who could not understand any one of the endearing epithets she showered upon him. It was true he was crying bitterly, but her conjecture as to the cause of his grief was quite a mistake, for he was mourning over his folly in losing sight of Vickel.

She caught him by both his hands and whirled him away to the door of the sit-kamé, where Zyl was stumbling through a page of Dutch history, about which his teacher knew nothing, whilst Genderen, with her fingers in her mouth and her low forehead drawn into most painful puckers, was trying hard to cast up an addition sum.

Mr. Algarkirke's knowledge of Dutch had been picked up during a short stay in Amsterdam before he emigrated, and when he found himself at a loss for a word, he recalled attention by a rap with his cane.

Genderen sighed heavily, and Zyl tugged at his fore-lock. Lessons with the Dutch children were a very laborious matter. If they had not been so fully alive to their importance, the new schoolmaster would have been a failure. With stolid gravity Zyl pulled through blunders his master was quite unable to rectify, and closed his book at last with an air of satisfaction that would have convulsed an English school with merriment.

Mr. Algarkirke seated Jack beside him, for an English child was a welcome addition to his pupils. But alas! the school-books were all in Dutch, except the Latin grammar, at which Sannie was profoundly staring.

"May I do a sum?" asked Jack, who knew "the good spell at the figures" did not come off so frequently as his father desired.

Jack found it much easier to grapple with the difficulties of long division in the day-time, when he was wide awake, than in his brief but pleasant lessons between winks, when his father was often more weary than himself. He said he should like a good spell at arithmetic, using his father's words a little proudly. But when Mr. Algarkirke rewarded his painstaking by setting him another and a longer example in money division, he felt himself becoming something worse than sleepy, for he was downright stupid at the conclusion.

"Please, Mr. Algarkirke, may I have a book?" he asked.

"Touch a book with such dirty paws!" retorted the schoolmaster, who had considerably widened the distance between them. "No, sir; no, I say."

Jack crimsoned to the roots of his hair, and hid his hands under the table. The schoolmaster grumbled something in Dutch. All eyes turned on Jack.

"A travelling schoolmaster expects his pupils to be ready for him. It is not treating me with proper respect to come here covered with soot and dust," he continued sharply.

Jack got up slowly and went to the door.

The Black Antelope was told off to recall him; but her ready wit had already divined the cause of Mr. Algarkirke's offence. Poor, disconcerted Jack was whirled away into one of the side rooms, where tub and towel awaited him.

The touch of his hot head and burning hands distressed her, and ere the bathing was finished, she felt quite sure the poor child would be prostrate with African fever before many hours were over. Should she tell her mistress? The Boers were so hard and unfeeling to their slaves, the Kafir could not depend upon their sympathy. But her woman's heart went forth to the poor white lamb without a mother, and she made up her mind to steal out at night and watch over him, if he were sent back into the waggon to sleep alone.

She took away his burnt and blackened clothes, and dressed him in a cast-off suit of Zyl's; but the shirt and trousers were immensely too big, so she rolled up the sleeves of the former to his elbows and the legs of the trousers to his knees. In place of a belt, she found a large scarlet and orange handkerchief of the "oom's," and wound it round Jack's waist, dancing round him with delight, and shouting to a sister Kafir, who was pounding home-grown pepper in the entrance court, to come and admire his little shell-like ears, his shapely knees, etc.

Jack, who could not understand her lavish praise, felt supremely ridiculous when she led him back to the sit-kamé, where the business of school was proceeding rapidly. A hearty laugh greeted Jack's transformation.

"You need not have leaped from a chimney-sweep to a merry-andrew," observed Mr. Algarkirke, as the mirth subsided, "and you an English boy."

Slow of speech as Zyl and Genderen habitually were, they resented the tones of reproach in which these words were spoken. Dropping an unwary ink-spot on her copybook as she gathered up her courage, Genderen began the story of the fire, which Zyl confirmed with sundry snorts of vengeance against the thievish Kafirs.

"And so they brought you here just as they pulled you out of the flames!" exclaimed the young Englishman. "Why did not you tell me this before, Jack?"

Tante Milligen began to think the interruption had been too prolonged, so she got up and reminded the new teacher that Sannie had not yet had her turn.

The young Englishman, who would have been at his ease in the lecture-room of an Oxford professor, inwardly groaned. His disgust at the sight of the little blue-checked bundle that was dog's-earing his Latin grammar exceeded Jack's on the preceding evening.

But happily for him, no alphabet could be found in any one of the time-worn school-books that Tante Milligen had produced. They had already served the educational needs of three generations, and many a loose page had disappeared in the process. What was to be done? Tante Milligen was rummaging her cupboard, but in vain.

Jack, who was sitting on a corner of Zyl's chair, helping him through the mazes of his multiplication, looked up brightly, and offered to cut out an alphabet with his knife if he might have a loose book lid which was lying on the table.

But the process of alphabet cutting proved so interesting to Zyl and Genderen they could do nothing but watch it, until Mr. Algarkirke banished Jack and his knife to the back of the settee. Sannie crept after him unperceived, and learnt her first lesson unawares, for Jack had chosen a nice sized capital "A" on the title-page of the Latin grammar, which he got her to hold before him as a pattern; but the little fat fingers let the leaves fly over a dozen times. The bruise on her forehead made Jack wince every time he caught sight of the blue-green shadow.

He was patience itself, and turning back to his copy pointed to it with a smile, sometimes finding another A and sometimes turning back to the title-page with which he started, until at last Sannie's finger followed his as she drawled out, "Das is ein" (that is one); and she was right. Whilst Jack was at work on the B, Sannie fitted her card A to the corresponding capital in the pages of the grammar.

By the time Jack reached the eighth letter, his material was exhausted. He passed them quietly to Mr. Algarkirke, and sat down again, resting his aching head against the back of the settee, unnoticed by anyone, whilst Sannie was called up for her first lesson.

With a disdainful curl of the lip, as if he were condescending to the very dust, Mr. Algarkirke laid the letters in order, and mounting the too juvenile pupil on the chair beside him, informed her with much preceptorial display that A was the first letter of the alphabet and the first of the vowels.

Sannie made answer with a long-drawn "Jah!" and held up the Latin grammar.

"That," said he, taking the volume from her to conceal the laughter that was choking him—"that is a little beyond you. One step at a time."

Sannie stared at him with one hand in her mouth, duly impressed with the solemnity of the occasion. Whilst he consulted the four corners of the room as to what he should say next, Jack guessed his dilemma, and renewed his petition for a book. The Latin grammar was handed to him. As Jack took it, he swept the letters into a heap, and smiling at the round baby face, almost ready to dissolve in tears, he pointed to the A on the title-page.

"Well done, my little Dutchwoman!" exclaimed Algarkirke as Sannie picked out the cardboard duplicate from the little heap of letters and held it up to Jack.

Tante Milligen let her hands fall upon her lap. It was wonderful. Mr. Algarkirke's reputation as a schoolmaster was established for ever.

"Allamachter!" she exclaimed. "Why I was full three months before they got me to see the difference between one letter and another. No more German teachers for me. You can't beat the English at work. They take it all square. We must make much of him."

The Black Antelope was quite ready to echo her mistress's opinion. Feeling she had now seen both tutor and pupils fairly started on the road to learning, Tante Milligen withdrew to her kitchen, having been assured for the last half-hour that the roast was burning.

Mr. Algarkirke coughed ominously.

"Jack," he whispered in an English aside, "you are a brick. You have helped me over the worst bit of drudgery in my day's work. Now, if there is anything I can do for you or your father, you must tell me."

"Please, sir," cried Jack, brightening, "will you sell father a coat?"

"If I were not so wretchedly down in my luck, I would give one, but anyhow, he shall have it for a trifle," answered Algarkirke, "if he wishes."

Jack scarcely longed for evening more earnestly than his young countryman, who knew not how to keep the attention of his stolid pupils through the sleepy heat of an African afternoon. The room was like an oven. Algarkirke was painfully conscious the slow intellects of the Boer's children were gaining from him nothing but a jumble of confused ideas. School in the wilderness is a difficult matter, manage as you will. Genderen's sleepy yawn, which she was unable longer to repress, reminded the young tutor of the Hottentot.

A bright thought occurred to him—an object lesson out of doors. Weights and measures taught amid the heaps of corn in Van Immerseel's granary would be made clear to the most sluggish understanding. The "fatted calf," as he chose to designate poor Sannie, was snoring at his feet. He left her undisturbed to the enjoyment of her siesta, and marched out the other two, slate in hand, to their own favourite resort, the farm-yard. Jack followed wearily. At that moment he would have been content to share the sheep-skin in the corner.

The Hottentot herdsman stood grinning at the novel proceeding. With bushel and strike, steelyard and sack, Zyl was at home; and Genderen, with her pencil between her lips, noting down the figures at Mr. Algarkirke's dictation, seemed a different being. Jack stood nearest to the door. A tug at his sleeve made look round. There was his Vickel, with her queenly breast and outspread wings, obviously intent upon dragging out her little master into the free, fresh air to share with her the pleasures of a straw-stack, in which she had been revelling with her new-found kin. Jack forgot everything in his joy at seeing her again.

But Zyl, whose remembrance of her attack in the morning was as vivid as ever, banged up the door and shut them both out.

Jack was now feeling too ill to wish to return. He went with Vickel to the rustling straw, and was soon fast asleep, with his aching head pillowed on Vickel's downy breast.

He awoke with a shiver, for the evening dews were falling. The ostrich was roosting beside him, with her head under her wing. The farm-yard gate was shut; but it was easy to get on to the wall from the top of the stack. Jack did not disturb his bird; for he thought if she began to clamour, the noise would be heard indoors, and some one would be sure to come and fetch him. He longed to be left alone. He wanted nobody but his father, and he would look for him where he had left him in the early morning. So Jack let himself drop down the other side of the wall and crept into the waggon.

VII.

_THE BLACK ANTELOPE._

THE evening darkened into night, but Jack's father did not return. Tante Milligen had sent her Kafir maid to look for Jack, and when she heard he was asleep in his father's waggon, she thought it best to leave him there. But the kind-hearted Black Antelope was troubled, for his restless sleep convinced her the fever was upon him. She had washed his sooty clothes for pure love of his fair English face, and laid them by him in the waggon.

Among the few trifles which had been saved from the fire was Mr. Treby's drinking-flask, which was in the pocket of his coat, but had not been destroyed with it. Before he departed, he had filled it with water for Jack's benefit, and left it, with the remains of the dinner Tottie had provided, by the sleeping child. Jack could not touch the bone of cold mutton or the crust of bread, but he drank the water. He fell asleep with the flask in his hands. It had been a keepsake from an English friend, and Mr. Treby's name was engraved upon the silver stopper.

The night was intensely hot, and the moon was near the full. The light of the lamp still streamed through the half-open door of the sit-kamé, where Tante Milligen was awaiting the return of her husband and son. Most of the Kafir servants had been dismissed to their huts for the night.

Sandford Algarkirke, preferring the company of the fireflies to the conversation of the Boeress, had retreated to the orange grove, where he too was listening for the first sound of the horses' feet. But they were scarcely audible, for the weary travellers rode slowly over the sandy veldt, and were within sight of the farm before any one at home was aware of their presence.

The Black Antelope had just paid her last visit to the fever-stricken child. She found him trying to drain another drop from the now empty flask. She took it from him, intending to refill it, and was stepping out of the waggon with it in her hand when the "oom" rode up.

In that brilliant moonlight he saw the silver-mounted flask in the black girl's hand as clearly as if it had been noonday, and so did Mr. Treby, who rode beside him. Believing she had stolen it from the waggon, the Boer leaped from his horse and struck her such a blow with his clenched fist that she lay moaning on the ground.

"Bread of mine was never yet broken by a thief, and never shall be!" he exclaimed indignantly, snatching the flask from her unresisting hand and returning it to Mr. Treby.

The gate of Jaarsveldt was flung open as Tante Milligen and the schoolmaster ran out to ascertain the cause of the commotion. The rest of the party spurred forward; but amidst the stamping of hoofs and the neighing of horses, the Boer's stentorian voice was heard denouncing the guilty hand that dared to touch the Englishman's goods in his absence.

"What is he saying?" asked Jack's father in an anxious aside to the German Otto.

The shepherd translated his master's words, adding, "Your things are safe enough under Van Immerseel's protection."

"Jah! Jah!" cried Walt, who was standing behind them. "We'll show you in the morning how we punish a thief at Jaarsveldt. Such gentry, be their colour what it may, had better not come here."

The noise had effectually roused poor Jack from his feverish sleep. He saw the Black Antelope, who had been so kind to him all day, staggering to her feet but he saw his father in the group, and scrambling out of the waggon, he rushed to him, gasping, "Don't let them hurt her, father dear! Oh, don't! Don't!" For the Boer had doubled up his gigantic fist to deal a second blow.

Mr. Treby stepped forward and caught Van Immerseel's arm, expressing his heartfelt thanks for his timely intervention, yet adding a plea for mercy to the delinquent.

The Kafir girl cast one loving look of gratitude on Jack, and slunk away into the shadows.

Tante Milligen, with her arms akimbo, was warmly applauding her husband's conduct.

Sandford Algarkirke had drawn back into the garden. He held the gate in his hand, and was listening attentively to every word.

"Please, sir," cried Jack excitedly, "you can make these people understand. Do come and tell them the poor Kafir girl only went to fetch me some more water. I am sure she did not mean to steal the flask."

"Then say so," was the brief reply; "but do not drag me into the matter."

"Of course I would, if I could speak their Dutch. I ought, I must; but they do not know what I am saying, so it is of no use. But you can explain it; and if you do not, they will beat her dreadfully," urged Jack. "We must not let the innocent suffer. It is not right, Mr. Algarkirke."

"Come along, then," returned the young schoolmaster, and taking Jack's hand he led him into the house, where the travellers were already seated round the supper-table.

"This little fellow has asked me to be his interpreter," said Algarkirke as he repeated Jack's assertion.

But the burly Dutchman only laughed.

"Say no more now, Jack," interposed his father, making room for his boy beside him. "Circumstances are very much against her."

"And circumstances weigh so heavily when you have only innocence without proof to balance them in the other scale; but she is happy to have even a child like you to believe in her," added the young schoolmaster, with a bitterness that made Jack's father think,—

"Some personal experience, something in your own life, gave its sting to that remark."

"She will never pilfer again," remarked Walt; "she is too true a Kafir for that. There is the dog-nature in them all—just the same sort of fidelity, and all that." So the talk ran on, and in the discussions over more important matters the Black Antelope was forgotten by all but Jack and the schoolmaster.

The sheep-tracks had been carefully traced, but they did not lead to the district of the free Kafirs in the valleys among the rocks. Mr. Treby began to think his Tottie was right in her estimate of the thieves. But the scare had spread through the whole district. The police would be here in the morning and until they had investigated the matter, watch must be kept, for fear the aggressors should return and attack another of the lonely farms which dotted the sandy waste.

Mr. Treby had encountered his white-haired Hottentot Seco returning. He brought him word that the new settler at Scarsdorp found the wild life in that vast karroo too rough for his taste, and had previously decided to change his sheep-farm and try tobacco-growing in Natal. The news which Seco carried made him hasten his departure all he could. He would "trek" at once (as the African settlers say when they move, using the old Dutch word their neighbours the Boers have made familiar throughout the district), if he could buy or hire another waggon to carry the rest of his goods.

Mr. Treby caught at the opportunity this offered him to retrieve his fortunes. He decided to place his waggon and oxen at his neighbour's service. For this he would receive a good round sum. He would drive it himself; and when he had delivered the goods, he must start for Kimberley and dig for diamonds, until he had gained money enough to rebuild his house and stock his farm. Van Immerseel was ready to hire his pasture for the rest of the season, and pay him on his return—not with money, but with sheep.

Jack, of course, would go with him, for he could work with him at the diamond diggings. Jack could manage a sieve; his young eyes would be as sharp as his own to pick out the sparkling diamonds as he sifted the loosened earth in which they were embedded. The journey would give his burned arm time to recover its natural strength, before he shouldered mattock and spade among the crowds of busy workers at the Kimberley diggings.

Such were the plans that Mr. Treby was revolving, as he did justice to the cold mutton and steaming coffee Tante Milligen had provided for the travellers.

"It is chancey work at the diamond mines," remarked the "oom." "A fellow may dig for weeks and get nothing but dirt for his pains; or he may make his fortune in a day."

"I can only try," answered Jack's father; "and with God's blessing I may pull round before another year."

How the young schoolmaster listened, as if he longed to follow his example.

Otto had been to Kimberley, and he described the giant circle, where the diamonds were to be found. So much earth had been already scooped away that he could liken it to nothing but an enormous basin, filled with men of all colours, grubbing in the earth like human ants. He spoke of its ceaseless toil and its uncertain gains.

But Mr. Treby still repeated, "I can only try. Hard work won't frighten me."

It was the look on Jack's face that was frightening him. He saw the feverish flush and the glittering eyes, and felt him shiver as the child crept closer and closer to his side.

"What is the matter, my boy?" he whispered.

But Jack did not reply. The group of rough, bearded men hastily snatching a supper seemed to him no better than the unreal phantoms of a troubled dream. Tante Milligen's broad, quaint figure, with her bare arms and borderless cap, seemed everywhere. The talk of dangers and daring thrilled through his over-excited brain; and then, worse than all, the great trap-door in the ceiling over his head appeared to open and shut of itself. The plum-stones which studded the floor seemed to dance before his eyes, until he hardly knew where he was. But his father's arm was around him, and to that he clung desperately.

When he came to himself, his father was pouring something down his throat from a cow's horn; Tante held a candle in her hand, and was saying something in Dutch. Jack caught the oft-repeated word "slaap-kamé" (sleep-chamber). At last she opened the door into one of the side rooms, which Jack could distinguish the curtains of a huge four-post bed. The room felt hot and stifling as his father carried him in and laid him down upon the softest pillow Jack had ever known. Tante Milligen stuck the candle she carried somewhere in the wall.

"There is no sleep for me to-night," said Jack's father. "I do not expect any disturbance; but come what may, I can keep watch within doors."

"And I shall share your vigil," interposed the schoolmaster; "so your little boy can occupy this room (where I was to have slept) undisturbed. Don't say no, for a dash of adventure has all imaginable charms for me."

According to Dutch fashion, every breath of air was carefully excluded from the room, so Mr. Treby set the door ajar, and the light from the lamp on the supper-table streamed across the floor.

An old Hottentot woman, with her shrivelled, yellow hand, brought a cool leaf to lay on Jack's forehead, and muttered something over him like a charm.

Tante Milligen herself fetched a pitcher of herbal tea, and then, with many maternal shakings of her head and sundry commiserative sounds, departed to her own slaap-kamé on the other side of the great room, into which all the doors of the house seemed to open, for the Boer's house was but one story high. There were lofts in the roof, where stores were kept, but these were reached by a wooden ladder outside the house, or through the trap-door which had had so large a share in Jack's delirious fancies.

He could have slept now, poor boy, but for the snoring duet that was kept up by the little sisters on the other side of the wall.

The Kafir servants, who had been playing scout all day by turns, came in to report that all was quiet. Walt decided to go with Otto to his hut by the sheep-kraals, as on the preceding night. Van Immerseel was persuaded to lie down on his bed; but he would not undress so that he could be roused at a moment's notice.

Walt looked in at Mr. Treby before he departed. They showed each other their loaded rifles, and nodded significantly, as if to say, "We are ready." Otto, who had followed, stooped down and picked up something from the floor.

"My knife!" cried Jack, starting upright.

"All right," said his father, laying him gently upon the pillows again.

The German backed into the outer room.

Thinking the entrance of the young men disturbed his Jack, Mr. Treby followed his example, and taking Walt by the arm, went out also.

Swarms of those hard-winged, spotted flies danced round and round the candle, until they stuck fast in the burning tallow. A menacing mosquito buzzed in the curtains of the bed, and banished Jack's last chance of sleep.

At last the house grew still. Mr. Treby set the door of Jack's room wide open, so that he might feel the refreshing night-breeze from the open windows of the sit-kamé.

Believing that his child was dozing, he sat down by the door, with his face buried in his hands.

Algarkirke waited impatiently for his reverie to end. At last he said, "We are countrymen, and in a distant land like this that means friends, and almost brothers, does it not?"