Diamond Dyke Part 20

The Kaffir went back and crept under the wagon, and Emson clasped his brother's hand.

"Take your time, but don't lose any, old fellow," he said; "for I shall be glad to see you back. Take care of yourself. I wish I were going with you, but I can't. There, you are man enough to manage everything, so good-bye."

He urged his horse forward and went back swiftly along the trail, his nag cantering steadily along one of the broad ruts made by the wagon wheels in the sand, while d.y.k.e went and seated himself just under the wagon-tilt, and watched him till he was out of view.

"Six days and nights at the least," said d.y.k.e to himself with a sigh, "and perhaps a fortnight, before I get back. Never mind; every day will be one less, and I don't suppose I shall mind its being lonely, after all. Duke's good company, and so is Breezy, without counting Jack, and it isn't so very bad after all to go riding through the country with one's own tent on wheels. Why, some fellows at home would be mad with joy to get such a chance. Ah, look at that. Why, if I'd been ready, I might have got a couple of Guinea-fowl for the larder."

For a flock of the curious speckled birds came and settled amongst the bushes on the other side of the water pool, but catching sight of visitors, went off with a tremendous outcry.

"Don't matter," said d.y.k.e; "there's plenty of the buck."

The sun was sinking low in the west, as after a long, toilsome journey from the last water, d.y.k.e, with the great whip held aloft like a large fis.h.i.+ng-rod and line, sat on the wagon-box shouting to the weary oxen from time to time. He was apparently quite alone, save that Breezy was tethered by a long leathern rein to the back of the wagon. There was no Kaffir Jack, no Duke; and the boy, as he sat driving, looked weary, worn out, and disconsolate.

For days past he had been upon a faintly-marked track leading south-west--a track in which hoof-marks and the traces of wagon wheels having pa.s.sed that way were faintly to be seen, quite sufficient to show him that he was on the right track for civilisation in some form, and he felt pretty certain that sooner or later he would reach Oom Morgenstern's store and farm.

But it had been a terrible task that managing of the team alone, and urging the sluggish animals to drag the wagon when they reached heavy patches of sand. Then, too, there was the outspanning--the unyoking the often vicious animals from the dissel-boom or wagon pole and trek chain, when he halted by water, and let them drink and feed. Then the inspanning, the yoking up of the oxen again, and the start once more.

That huge whip, too, had been such a clumsy thing to handle, but highly necessary, for without it he would never have reached the end of his journey. Then at night there had been the same outspanning to see to; the feeding of the bullocks; the collection of wood and lighting of as big a fire as he could contrive, to cook his food, boil his coffee, and, finally, make up to scare off wild beasts. In addition to this, a thorn protection ought to have been made to keep off danger from Breezy, but that was impossible; and hour after hour d.y.k.e had sat in the darkness, where the cob's rein was made fast to the wagon tail, and, gun in hand, had watched over the trembling beast, keeping him company when the distant roaring of lions was heard on the veldt, and the bullocks grew uneasy.

Little sleep fell to d.y.k.e's lot by night; but in the daytime, when the bullocks were going steadily along the track, which they followed willingly enough for the most part, the boy's head would sink down upon his breast, and he would s.n.a.t.c.h a few minutes' rest, often enough to start up and find the wagon at a standstill, and the bullocks cropping some patch of gra.s.s or the tender shoots of a clump of bushes.

Then on again, with at times the great whip exchanged for the gun, and some bird or another laid low, so as to find him in extra provisions by the way. Once, too, he managed to hit a little buck.

A long, doleful, and weary journey, without meeting a soul, or being pa.s.sed. On and on, over the never-ending plain, often despairing, and with the oxen groaning, empty as the wagon was, for the sun flashed and was reflected up with blinding force, and there were moments when d.y.k.e grew giddy, and felt as if he must break down.

But those were only moments. He set his teeth again, and trudged on or rode, thinking of Joe waiting patiently away there in the lonely, corrugated iron building, tending the ostriches, and feeling in perfect confidence that the journey would be achieved, and the necessary stores brought back.

There were moments, though, when d.y.k.e brightened up, and told himself that he would do it if he tried till to-morrow morning; and at such times he laughed--or rather tried to laugh--for it was rather a painful process, his face being sore and the skin ready to peel away.

But at last, after escaping danger after danger by a hair's-breadth, the great weariness of the almost interminable journey was coming to an end, for, far away in the distance, there was a building visible through the clear air. He could see a broad stretch of green, too, looking delightful with waving trees, after the arid wilderness through which he had pa.s.sed; and now, in spite of his great fatigue, d.y.k.e plucked up courage, for the building must be Oom Morgenstern's farm, and in an hour or so the traveller felt that the first part of his journey was at an end.

Once or twice a feeling of doubt troubled him, but that soon pa.s.sed off, for reason told him that he could not be wrong--this must be the point for which he had been aiming.

The bullocks began to move more briskly now, for they could see green pasture in the far distance, and there was a moister feeling in the air, suggestive of water not far away.

So d.y.k.e's task grew lighter, and an hour or so later he could see a big, heavy, grey man standing outside an untidy-looking building, littered about with cask and case, and who saluted him as he halted his team:

"Ach! das is goot. How you vas, mein bube?"

"Here, I say," cried d.y.k.e, as the big German shook hands with him, "who are you calling a b.o.o.by, Uncle Morgenstern?"

"Hey? You vas bube. Not gall yourself mans, long time ago to gom.

Bube ist poy, goot poy. Zo you gom vrom Kopfontein all py youzelf to puy mealies and dea, and goffee and sugars?"

"Well, not quite all alone; I've got our Kaffir with me."

"Ach! ten: why you not make him drive die pullock? Lazy tog!"

"He's in the wagon, bad. I've had to drive the bullocks, and inspan and outspan all by myself."

"Ach! wonterful! All py youself. Goot poy. Ant you are hot, und sehr dursty."

"Oh yes, horribly thirsty."

"Goot! Die Frau shall make you zom of mein beaudiful goffees. Das is good vor dursdy.--Hi!" he shouted; and a couple of Kaffir boys came from behind a rough shed, to whom he gave instructions to outspan the oxen and drive them to the abundant pasture by the river side.

"Goot! Now led me see der pad mensch. Zo you haf put you Kaffir in you wagon, and give him a pig ride."

"Yes; I thought he was going to die."

"Zo? Ah! zom beebles would haf left him oonter a dree, und zay do him: 'Mein vrient, you had petter make youself guite well as zoon as you gan.

I muss nicht shtop. Goot-bye.' But you did bring him in dem wagon, hey?"

"Oh yes: I could not leave him."

"You are a goot poy, my young vrient. And how is der big bruder?"

"Quite well," said d.y.k.e, looking uneasy as the big, frank-faced, fat, German Boer questioned him.

"Why did he not gom too? I like den big bruder."

"Too busy minding the young ostriches."

"Ach zo! Of goorse. Ant you make blenty of money--you gut off der vedders, and zend dem to der Gape?"

"Oh no. We're doing very badly: the young birds die so fast."

"Zo? Das ist sehr, very bad. You had petter zell mealie und gorn, und dea und sugars. It ist mooch petters as neffer vas, and you not haf to gom five, zigs, zeven days to me. Now let us zee den Kaffirs."

The old man had approached the back of the wagon as he spoke, and now drew the canvas aside, to be greeted by a low growl which made him start back.

"Tunder!" he cried. "Der Kaffir tog is gone mad!"

"No, no; that is our dog Duke."

"Ah! Und is he pad too?"

"Yes: a leopard came and seized him one night and carried him off from under the wagon; but I ran out and fired, and I suppose I hit the beast, for there was a lot of snarling and Duke got away; but I thought he would have died."

"Ach! boor togs den. What you do to him?"

"Bathed the places with water."

"Goot!"

"And he licked the wounds himself."

"Besser."