Chapter XI

The Kafir Andries had sent to show me the way had worked in the Transvaal, so spoke the Taal very well. Being afraid of my thoughts, I let him talk with me as we rode, of course making him keep behind. I also thought I might learn from him something about Andries that would help me to know this strange and clever man better. But the Kafir either knew nothing, or, knowing, would not say, for I learned little that I did not already know; so I gave up talking, and fell to thinking of Katrina, and, naturally, thoughts of her brought up Charlotte,—though, since I had reason to give up making love to her, and fearing that she knew I was no free man, I had almost put her out of my head. But as I thought on her brightness and cleverness, I began to wonder whether she might not help me somehow, for I was in that perplexed state when a man looks round for something he does not expect to find, yet secretly hopes may be at hand. I could not see how she could help me, but the thoughts would not go away; and soon the trip of my horse’s feet began to say, “Go to Charlotte, go to Charlotte,” just as they used to say, “Come ye out from among them.”

Was it not strange, and part of the wondrous plan of which I have often spoken, that when the Kafir’s time came to leave me he should say, “The road is now plain and easy to the laager; but if the baas loses it, the place of Baas Andries is over there, and he can go to it, and the missie will tell him the way.”

I had not planned to go to Andries’ place, for it was quite an hour off my road; but after this wondrous thing I could not but go. Besides, I did not yet feel strong enough to face my Burghers, and the story I was to tell them was not so smooth as stories should be to have truth written over them, and I feared the searching questions that Paul was certain to put. So, quite carelessly, as if it were a matter of no importance, I asked the Kafir—

“How do you know the missie is there?”

“I know, baas, because when I come back from taking her there she bid me tell the baas she would wait till he came.”

“All right,” said I, “I am not going there. You may go,” and he left.

When he was well out of sight, behind the corner of the mountain, I turned my horse in the direction of Andries’ place. Even the animal’s body kept tune with the words that came from his hoofs, for he cantered without my spurring him, and I found myself shaking hands with Charlotte long before I expected.

She was on the stoep when I rode up, sitting in a deck-chair reading letters, and dressed in a pretty white frock, just like the English girls you see at Maritzburg playing tennis. She had light hair, too, just like them, and looked so clean that any one could see she had the English custom of washing long before she got dirty, which is a thing our Boer girls cannot understand, and laugh much at.

“I saw you coming, and have coffee ready,” said she, as if she quite expected me. “Did my father tell you to come and bring a message?”

“Nay, Charlotte; I come because I want some one who is clever and far-seeing to tell me what I shall do when I go back to my schelms.”

And then, without further delay, I told her how I feared that things would not work out there as her father had prophesied, giving her a fearsome account of the wickedness of Van der Murphy and the Coetzees, which was not altogether true; then I told her of the wicked plans for my destruction that they might be preparing.

“But,” said she, “you have to go back; why not get there before they have time to make plans? You are commandant; let them know that you are. Is it not war-time, when you can do as you like, for will not Piet Joubert see you come to no harm? If I were you I would tie up Van der Murphy, and give him twenty-five.”

“Charlotte, you do not know my Burghers. If I were to try that, they would begin first on me. It is easy for a girl to tell a man what he should do; but what would you do with two hundred and fifty angry Burghers who did not love you?”

“I should make them afraid of me, as you must.”

“I should like to see how you did it,” said I; for though I tried to make her believe I truly feared to go back, I was not so much in fear as in hope that she might ask me to stay and take care of her out of sympathy,—for some women do not like to know that men are in danger, though there are others who are only happy when they know they have sent a man to death, as I had good reason to know. To my surprise and disappointment her reply was, quite coolly—

“I’m going to the laager, Sarel, so you may as well go with me.”

“Do you mean it, Charlotte?”

“Ja, Sarel; I have a fancy to see your Burghers, for I do not want them to hurt you, and they will not do anything to you while I am with you.”

This speech pleased me very much, for I felt there was truth in what she said; and it certainly would be good for me to have a woman with me as protection in case anything happened. So, hoping she would not change her mind, I told her that I would never let her run the risk of being hurt by my schelms.

N

“Sarel,” said she, “it is you they would hurt, not me, and I go to take care of you.”

This was said so softly and kindly that I was as surprised as I was pleased; for if she knew, as I feared and believed, that I was no free man, but tied to Katrina by a loan of a thousand pounds and a promise to marry her, it was very strange, for it is not usual for a young girl to show any kindness to a man she does not want to marry. For one pleasant minute I thought she must love me; but suddenly that thought was washed away by the memory that Charlotte had been taught among English girls, and they think on these things so differently to Boer girls. Still, it was much more agreeable that she should think me a free man; for women are never the same to a man with a wife as they are to one without, even the married women paying more attention to a bachelor, out of pity for his lonely state. So I planned to make such remarks and speeches to Charlotte as would lead her to suppose I was a free man, yet, by being careful never to say yea or nay plainly, I should have a door of escape when the truth came out.

We sat still on the stoep, for the day was very hot, and I had no wish to go to the laager. It was so much more refined to sit there and look at Charlotte, who was pink and white, and so clever in her sayings, that I felt as if I were with a predikant for goodness, and a Johannesburg gold-company man for slimness, instead of with a girl only eighteen and not long from school. She was as much my master as was her father, only she was more serious in her masterfulness, and had not his way of laughing when he had said a bitter thing, which took away the soreness. Charlotte said sharp things with thin closed lips, and looked as if she wanted to say more, even harder and sharper.

Neither of us spoke for some time. I was thinking out something to say to Charlotte that would draw out her true feelings to me; but her eyes were fixed on the veld, which she looked at without seeing, as one who thinks hard. She looked very handsome that way, for her grey eyes were wide open, and had a misty look that was very soft and tender; and I began to wonder why I had not before noticed how much more pleasant she was to look at than my fat, flabby-faced, big-voiced Katrina, whose frocks never fitted close to her as did this one of Charlotte’s, and whose hands were big and red, and her feet flat and without shape. When I used to reproach her for her large feet she would repeat a foolish saying in the Taal about large feet proving a large heart; but when a man has seen Rooinek girls, he begins to admire other things than hearts, for those he cannot see, and knows not whether they are large or small. It is not so with other parts of the body, which are ever before him; and this is one of the drawbacks of being educated, for I have noticed that when a young Boer gets education he is more particular about having for a wife a girl who looks nice, whereas those who are not educated think only about the cattle she will bring him, which is one of the reasons why old Boers are so much against education, unless they are going to make their sons predikants or doctors, which is the only use they think learning is for.

These thoughts were passing in my mind while I sat looking at Charlotte, and marvelling at the difference education makes to a Boer girl, when she suddenly started, as if awakened from a half-sleep, and looked round at me.

“When do we ride, Charlotte?” I asked, wishful to say something soothing, as I could see she was confused by my hard looks.

“When we have eaten; the Kafir is now cooking,” answered she.

“But the laager is five hours away, and my horse is done up.”

“It would not do up your horse to ride the short distance you came this morning,” said she.

“But I rode hard, being anxious to see you,” said I, thinking that at last I had the chance to say a good thing.

“Ja; because the nearer me, the farther from your commando,” was her cutting reply. “There is a good horse in the paddock, and you can ride him; but go to-day we must, for my father will be here to-morrow.”

There was no way out of this; so, after we had eaten, we saddled up, and by an hour after noon we were on the way to my laager.

We rode in silence for some time, for I liked to look at Charlotte as I had never looked before. She rode a big roan mare, and sat very lightly and gracefully in the saddle, not like a heavy Boer girl does, who will give a horse sore back in a two-hour ride. She wore, too, a long black riding-skirt instead of a short frock, which makes the Boer maidens look so broad and bulky when they ride; and altogether she made a picture so pretty, that it reminded me of those I had seen in books. I was riding a little behind, that I might see her the better, when she checked her horse and waited for me to get beside her.

“Sarel,” said she, very quietly, and without taking her eyes from her reins, “while you were away your Burghers did a very foolish thing.”

“That is no news to me,” I answered wittily.

“Nay, perhaps not; but it is a thing that will hurt you unless you help me to put it right. Will you?”

“Certainly I will. What have they done?”

“They have caught a khaki captain—one of the Britishers I get much information from, because he is in love with me. It was he who gave me those letters you took to General Joubert, which made you go high up in his favour.”

“Is this, then, why you come with me?” I asked, feeling a little angry and disappointed.

“Ja, Sarel; while he is away he is no use to me, and by being useful to me he is also helping you, and it is you I wish to help.”

My anger went down on this nice speech.

“Charlotte, you shall have him back; ride on,” said I, and she thanked me with so much heartfulness that my mind misgave me; and almost before I knew what I was saying I asked, ‘Are you quite sure that it is for me, and not for the khaki, you are going?”

“Of course it’s for the khaki. I go for him, as I would go for my horse if it were impounded.”

“And you don’t love him?”

“Do you think me a fool, Sarel? This khaki is very poor. If I wanted a khaki husband I could have plenty of rich ones. I know dukes and lords; and one who wants me much to marry him has an uncle who is a lord mayor. These khaki officers have lots of money sometimes, Sarel; but I don’t want them while there are good Afrikander kerels.”

I was too pleased to say anything; I could only listen, hoping she would say something more, but plainer. But she was quiet, so I asked—

“What sort of man is this khaki captain?”

“The sort of man who tells a woman all about himself, and lets her do what she will with him.”

There was something in her way of saying this that made me doubtful whether she meant that she approved such a man or whether she despised him; for I had told her much about myself, and perhaps Charlotte might think I would let her do what she willed with me, wherein she was greatly mistaken. Several times I tried to lead her to say things that would remove any doubt as to what she thought of me, but always she cleverly turned the subject.

“Have you good horses at the laager?” she asked; “because the captain and I must leave to-night, for we have far to go.”

“That would not be possible, Charlotte, for if my Burghers have got your khaki, I must ask General Joubert’s leave before I can let him go.”

“What! are you commandant, yet cannot say whether a man shall come or go?” she asked in anger.

I can say ‘Go,’ but my Burghers may say ‘Stay.’ What then shall I do?”

“Be baas, Sarel. What is the good of being commandant unless you are?”

“But the captain may have been sent to the head laager.”

“Then I go to the head laager after him. Sarel, I want that khaki captain, and I shall have him; and you must help me, otherwise She stopped suddenly, and looked at me in a meaning way that made me feel what she would have said.

“Charlotte, I have said I will help you, and I will not go back on my promise. I will do everything you wish.”

I did not want to say this, but her masterfulness overpowered me, and I could not think of the proper thing to say at the right time, so that I said more often what I felt than what was wise.

I was not sorry when the laager came in sight sooner than I expected. We rode right on to it before we were noticed, for, as usual, there were no sentries on watch. It was not yet dark, and the light was sufficient to show me that the laager was in a state of disorder. Burghers were lying about sleeping, but not the sleep of honest, respectable weariness, but of cheap liquor. Some were playing at cards, some quarrelling; but above all the noise I could hear the voice of old Paul droning a psalm, which was a pure sign that there had been trouble.

A strange waggon was outspanned in the middle of the laager, by which I knew that fresh stores had come from Johannesburg, which meant much whisky; and it was not needful that I should look at the empty bottles and open cases that lay all over the ground. But, saddening and ominous as this sight was, there was one even more so, one that made my heart thump, and in a glance upset all the plans designed by Andries and myself.

Standing against the waggon, breaking the neck off a whisky-bottle, was Van der Murphy; and the redness of his face and the wetness of his eyes told me what state he was in. While I looked he raised his eyes, and, seeing me, came running towards me, still holding the whisky-bottle, and both arms out wide. As he ran he shouted, in the Taal, “Burghers, the great miracle-worker has come; the schelm who robs Burghers of their loot-money is come!”

Next moment the laager was like an ant-heap that has been broken on the top. Burghers that I thought were asleep, kerels who were quarrelling over cards, even old Paul, who was singing to himself,—all came crowding round, and a babel of voices called out, ‘Where is our money, you thief? Where is the schelm Brink?”

My heart became fearful, not for myself, but for Charlotte; and I was quickly turning in my mind the speech I should make to them to move them to compassion, when there was a great distraction. Charlotte gave her mare a sharp cut on the flank, and rode him right into the crowd of Burghers, who were still pressing on from behind all around us.

“Who said Andries Brink was a schelm?” she asked fiercely, looking round the crowd.

“I did,” said young Van der Merwe, the same young kerel who, when full of whisky and cigar smoke, was always ready to remind me of the poisoned whisky. He was standing well in front, and just at Charlotte’s right hand.

She looked at him for a moment, from his boots to his hat, as women do when they are going to be spiteful to a man.

“You long-legged baboon! take that, and that,” said she, and, quick as the rifle-fire at Colenso, came the whistle of her sjambok, cutting the kerel over the head and face. He stood still for a moment or two with his hands up, as if dazed, taking half-a-dozen cuts without moving; then he suddenly turned and ran, shouting out, “No, no; I was joking!” Charlotte followed, getting in several severe cuts, till he crawled under the waggon, where she could not reach him.

“Now, you baboon, you will chatter again, will you? I am Charlotte Brink; do you think you will know me next time you see me?”

It would be a long time before he could see her, for the sjambok had cut his eyes; and two such cuts will put out any man’s eyes, and one will mark him for life if put upon the face, where Van der Merwe got most of his punishment.

Charlotte leant far over her saddle and tried to get another cut at him, but, with a howl of agony, he curled up like a snake that is struck, and writhed to the other side of the waggon, at which the Burghers began to laugh.

Charlotte looked round suspiciously, as if she thought the laugh was at her, but quickly saw the truth.

“I suppose that’s how he ran when the lancers were after him,” said she. They laughed again. “Yes, and others of you too,” she went on defiantly. ‘You are a nice crowd to talk about not getting loot-money, when you are too frightened to keep the oxen my father got for you. I have come to pay Burghers. Does any one else want paying by Andries Brink’s daughter?”

No one spoke, but many looked very foolish. Charlotte went on, pointing with her sjambok at a young Burgher who had been laughing much, “How many cattle did you bring in?” The moment the kerel found that Charlotte was speaking to him, he stopped the laugh, put on the most scared look, and backed towards the waggon, falling in his fright over one of the whisky-cases.

“He is not the first Burgher that whisky has brought down,” said Charlotte—a witty speech that, after a time, even the oldest Burgher saw through, and laughed much; for the longer it takes a Boer to see a joke the more he laughs.

One of the first to see it was Van der Murphy, who, being Irish, was ever ready to think things funny, even when they were just the opposite. He came up to Charlotte as respectfully as a half-drunken man often does.

“Missie,” said he, “you are quite right about whisky downing a man. Just look round this laager and take notes of the harvest. But whisky never downed a man as you downed that insolent, ignorant, long-legged young baboon, Van der Merwe, who has had his head swollen by success at cards, and required the physic you gave him. Further, missie, allow me, on behalf of patriotic Burghers who were present at Elandslaagte, to enter a protest against your sneer at those who ran from the lancers. Allow me to assure your royal highness that if you had seen those lancers at business you would have wondered that a Burgher ceased riding and running till he reached his own cattle-kraal. I was one of the few who did not run. I lay in a donga and watched the circus from between the hind-legs of a dead horse, and, believe me, your majesty, there are worse places when the angel of death breaks loose.”

This speech had been made in a most solemn manner, and in English; and as most of the old Burghers could not follow Van der Murphy,—who spoke very Irish English, especially when full of whisky,—they thought by his seriousness, and the way he had of bowing with his hat and the whisky-bottle, that he was making a religious speech; and they were quite persuaded of this when he wound up by speaking of the angel of death, which they understood. So most of them took off their hats very reverently, and stood bareheaded.

The sight of this was too much for Charlotte, for she gave One sweeping look around at these stupid old men standing as if at a funeral, then burst into a ringing laugh, and, swinging her horse round, rode through the crowd, most of the younger kerels running aside with their arms protecting their heads, as if they expected her to repeat the Van der Merwe business. Van der Murphy followed her up, still holding the whisky-bottle in one hand and his shabby ragged smasher hat in the other.

“Your majesty,” he shouted, “you said you had come to pay us. The money your esteemed parent left turned to paper.”

Charlotte pulled up and faced him.

“How do you know? did you steal it? Do you want paying?” and she raised her sjambok. The Irishman turned and ran for the waggon, rolling beneath it, and dropping the whisky-bottle. Charlotte did not follow him, so, seeing this, he carefully reached out his leg and drew the bottle to him, saying, as he did so, “Burghers, you have had an old woman for a commandant, now you have got a young one. You had better stuck to the old one.”

“Come out and say that again,” said Charlotte, riding up to the waggon.

“No, thank you; my friend Van der Merwe here would like a drink,” and Pat made a swinging wave with his hat and disappeared.

By this time the Burghers were all laughing and behaving like children, for neither Van der Merwe nor Pat were much liked in the commando, and no one was really sorry that Charlotte should have whipped one and threatened the other. She was just about to get off her horse and go after Van der Murphy, when old Hendrik Keiser spoke up—

“Never mind him, missie. He is only Irish, and does not know the meaning of any language. We do not believe he had any money, for he only knows enough of the Taal to use it for lying.”

“It seems that money is all this commando thinks about except whisky,” said Charlotte. “What do you do to earn it? I suppose you have robbed the khaki captain of the five thousand pounds he had, and that makes you hungry for more.”

The Burghers, who listened to every word Charlotte spoke, looked at one another in surprise; and I too was astonished, for I had guessed nothing of this money, and in a flash my jealousy of the captain vanished, for now I saw plainly what it was that Charlotte wanted.

There was another man surprised besides myself. I had wondered why old Paul had not come forward to greet me, and had thought that he was angry with me, when he came up with joy on his face.

“It serves you all right,” he shouted at the Burghers; “you would send him away because you wanted an excuse to go to head laager for whisky, and now the money that should be yours goes to the Hollanders. Sarel,” he went on, coming up to me for the first time, “they are well punished, for they are a wilful and headstrong people, who will not listen to my words of wisdom. They have sent the khaki captain to the head laager, and now the Hollanders have that five thousand pounds.”

Charlotte looked angry and concerned.

“Sarel,” said she, “we must have him back. Take me where we can talk. Come to this tent.”

I then noticed for the first time that during my absence tents had been put up, and many rough shelters of blankets and grass made the place more like a laager before Ladysmith, and showed that the Burghers had made up their minds for a long stay.

The tent to which Charlotte walked, after giving her horse to a Kafir, was a large square one. ‘This is yours, I suppose,” said she.

“Nay,” answered Paul; “the commandant is like me,—we have no tent. I lie under a bush. The schelms took all the best cover, and will not even let me lie under the waggon.”

“I suppose you will have to go with the Kafirs, being only commandant,” said Charlotte, a speech that made me angry, for no man likes a woman to think he is of no account.

“Who is here?” she asked, looking in at the tent, where I could see several Burghers sitting or lying on the ground. “Turn them out and take it,” said she to me.

I should not have had the courage to do this, but as soon as they saw Charlotte the Burghers stood up, and looked as foolish as if they were young kerels caught stealing, for they all looked at Charlotte’s sjambok very uneasily as they sidled out.

The tent had some furniture in it,—looted, as I afterwards learned, from a farmhouse near by,—and, besides a table and sofa, there was a piano, which was used for a saddle-rack by day; but at night, Paul told me, smoking-concerts were held here, and English songs sung by the young Burghers, while the old German played, as most Germans do. We sat down in the tent, while Paul went away to get us something to eat,

“This is nice, said I, meaning that the tent was comfortable.

“Yes, it was very kind of them to allow you to have it. Sarel, you don’t seem to be much of a baas here. If I had not come, you would be helping the Kafirs to look after the horses by this time, I suppose.”

I had told her, on the ride, a little of the sort of men I had in the laager, by way of preparing her for anything that might happen. So far things had gone much better than I had expected, so I felt bolder, and rather angry that she should have so poor an opinion of me.

“They are like young oxen,” said I, “who have to be humoured if you would drive them properly.”

“Meantime they put the baas on the trek-chain and get on to the waggon, eh,” and she swung her sjambok round to indicate the tent.

“You see, Charlotte, they are mostly old Burghers who have bled for their country, while I am young for a commandant. But I soon had them out of the tent.”

Charlotte laughed an annoying little laugh of sarcasm. Paul just then came in, with a Kafir bringing some biscuits and tinned things.

“I am thirsty; bring me some of that beer I see yonder,” said Charlotte.

“But the Burghers will not let me have it,” said Paul; “I tried to get a bottle for you.”

Charlotte said nothing, but got up and walked to the case which lay near the waggon. “Here, you kerel, bring me that beer,’ said she to a young Burgher standing by. He looked at her in wonderment.

“Quick, pick it up,” said she; and, as if in a dream, looking hard at her all the time, the young fellow took up three bottles awkwardly, and followed her to the tent, where Paul and I looked on, marvelling at this strange masterdom of a young girl, so different to what he and I had ever known.

“Sarel,” said he seriously, “there will be trouble. The Burghers are already asking what the girl does here. They do not mind the sjamboking, but if she is going to make a Burgher do a Kafir’s work,—well, there will be shooting.”

I thought the same, though I did not say it. Charlotte was right in whipping young Van der Merwe, but it was going too far to make a Burgher carry beer for her.

For once Paul’s prophecy came true quickly. While we were eating, I saw the Burghers gathering round the young kerel who had been so disgraced and humiliated. They were sympathising with him as if he had been unjustly beaten, while he was half inclined to cry, and kept glancing at the tent with a dark and sullen look, as I have seen on the face of a boy who wants to fight another who has beaten him, but dare not.

Presently the Burghers, bringing along the lad, all unwilling, came towards the tent, Johannes Steenkamp, a godly and serious old Burgher from the Rustenburg district, being their leader and spokesman.

“Sarel,” said he, when he had reached the door of the tent, speaking in a tone that meant anger behind it, “is it the wish of Slim Piet Joubert that a young commandant should bring an English missie into the laager to treat the Burghers as if they were Kafirs?”

Before I could answer, Charlotte had sprung to the door, pushing me aside, and holding me back with one hand.

“Is it in the orders that a dirty Taakhaar should call my father a thief—my father, who has done so much to help you lazy schelms, who are too cowardly to take cattle when they are thrown at you? Is it in the orders for a great lump of a kerel like that to stand and look on while a lady has to carry her own beer? And why do you call me an English missie?”

She advanced with her sjambok threateningly towards old Steenkamp, who had stood listening to Charlotte’s rapid and angry talk as one dazed. He backed away as Charlotte advanced, saying meekly, ‘I am sorry; but we thought by the way you made this young kerel do Kafir’s work, that you must be English.”

“Nay, I am true Afrikander,” said Charlotte, “and I am come to do what you lazy whisky-swillers should do—bring back a khaki who has stolen your money; but now that you have been rude to me you may get it yourself, which you won’t, for the Hollanders have it.”

At this talk of money the Burghers at once turned on old Steenkamp, and told him to go away, to apologise, and to do all sorts of things, till the old fellow waxed wrath, and, turning round, began to quarrel with those who had before agreed with him.

“Go away and leave us to eat,” said Charlotte, in her masterful way,—and she turned back into the tent, while the Burghers abused and maltreated old Steenkamp, and called out to Charlotte to come and sjambok him while they held him, so soon do men turn on those who are foolish enough to speak for them.

“Now, Sarel,” said Charlotte, “I must go, or I shall grow tired of fighting for you; you leave me to do it all,” which, considering that she never gave me a chance to say a word to the Burghers, showed that after all her English education she was still a Boer girl.

“Where do you go?” I asked.

“To General Joubert, to get my khaki.”

“Nay, Charlotte, do not go; stay here and write a letter to the General.”

“I never write when I can talk. Saddle up and come with me. It is only six hours, and there will be a moon all the way.”

“But you have not rested, and the horses are done up.”

“If you do not wish to help me, be an honest man, and say so. Your excuses are childish. There are three hundred horses here. Get two of the best and come, or I go alone.”

“But what will the Burghers say?”

“They may be your masters, but they are not mine. What will the Burghers say? Do you care more for what they say than for what I may say?”

I could not think of a proper reply, for when Charlotte became masterful, I felt like a child who was scolded and could not answer, except foolishly.

“Shall I go, or must I make that young kerel get the horses?” she exclaimed impatiently, making for the door.

I went unwillingly out and sought Paul, who was still keeping away from me as much as he could. I told him where and why I was going.

“Sarel,” said he, ‘it is well; and I will go with you, for this place is now a house of abomination, where there dwelleth nothing but wickedness. They are like the children of Israel when Moses was on the Mount.”

“Except that they are too lazy to get a calf,” said I; but Paul would never laugh when I made a good and plain joke. I did not want him to come, and told him so.

“Nay, Sarel, I will go, and never leave you, for I see that when I am away trouble and misfortune always come to you.”

“How can that be? Have I not been making money while they have despitefully used you?”

“That may be, Sarel; but this missie has come into your life, and when women come there is always trouble, and it is only I who can stop even greater trouble from coming.”

“What do you mean?”

“That is just what Katrina will ask of you; she has already asked that question of her cousin, Stephen Vick, who is in the laager.”

“Has she written to him?”

“Ja; and she has also written to General Joubert for a permit to come, and you know that Slim Piet never refuses a woman.”

My heart gave a painful thump that caused me to feel very sick, and all I could say was, “This must not be, Paul.”

“Certainly, Sarel; and that is why I wish to go, that I may see the General. If you ask him to stop Katrina, he is sure to send her, for you know how he loves to put vrouws to baas up their men; but if I tell him that you want Katrina, and advise him not to let her come, he will listen.”

“Paul, you are truly my friend. Let us go to-night. There will be moon, and the horses have had no exercise since they ran from the lancers.”

“Ja, Sarel; you must tell the Burghers that you are taking the missie to see the General to get that money back, and they will not do anything to stop

you.” I spoke to a few of the Burghers as Paul advised. Some of them wanted to talk of the money Andries Brink had left, but I would not stay, telling them I would settle everything when I came back.

Charlotte made no objection to Paul’s coming, at which I was a little sorry, hoping she might; so we got away quietly, and made good travelling for three hours, when we came to an empty farmhouse, and arranged to sleep there. The furniture had been all smashed or removed, little but the bare walls remaining.

I could not help thinking that if old Steenkamp had seen Charlotte lying on the floor wrapped in a blanket, with a saddle for a pillow, he would not have reproached her with being an English missie; though I have seen English girls do such things almost as well as an Afrikander, except that they are so particular about washing in the morning and changing their dresses, while a true Afrikander girl would wear the same clothes for a month without wishing to change them.

Paul and I lay in our blankets outside on the stoep, the night being very hot; but I could not sleep, thinking of the horrible news Paul had given me, and turning over all sides of the great puzzle as to why Katrina should be coming to see me. Could it be that she had heard of Charlotte? If so, then Paul must have told her, for none but he knew of my acquaintance with her.

Then I began to think on Paul’s strange conduct when I came back to the laager. He had shown no surprise or curiosity, and never even asked how I escaped from the lancers, but seemed to keep out of my way, that he might not have to talk to me, and all the time kept looking angrily at Charlotte, as if he blamed her for something.

Paul was mumbling in his sleep, as he often did, sometimes speaking quite plainly. Suddenly I remembered being told that if you press on the chest of a man who talks in his sleep, he will answer any question you may put. So I made up my mind to try, for I was certain that Paul was keeping something back from me, and knew much more of many things about me than he would say. I went up carefully, and, lying down beside him, put my arm gently over his chest above where his silly secret heart lay, and began to press, at first softly, then harder. He was still every now and then muttering, as if dreaming bad dreams, and this made me press yet harder, lest the dream should stop.

All at once, with a suddenness that made my heart thump, he turned round on his side, seizing me by the ear and beard, saying, “I shall not give you the money—it’s mine, it’s mine!” then he struck and pushed me, and awoke, and in the broad moonlight I could see a frightened look on his face.

Before he could gather his senses, I said with great adroitness, “Why won’t you give me the money?” He did not answer, but sat up and stared hard at me.

“What money?” he asked in a dazed and bewildered way, that would have deceived others not so sharp as myself. I made a shot in the dark—

o

“The money you took from Van der Murphy.”

“Van der Murphy had no money, Paul. Andries played a conjuring trick on him, and made him the laughing-block of the laager.”

“Tell me all about it.”

Paul sat up against the wall and filled his pipe slowly, to give him time to think.

“After you had gone,” said he, “Van der Murphy got very full of whisky, and the more he drank the more he talked of money, till at last I got so angry that I told him that he was a blower; that he never had enough to pay his whisky account, and to this day owed for the shoeing of his horses and their forage. This made him wrathful, and he took out a big envelope, saying there was a thousand pounds in it. Then a great indaba started, for you know, Sarel, how talk of money always sets the laager going. The Burghers crowded round Van der Murphy, and I saw two schelm Johannesburgers, who had been in jail for thievery, getting closer to him, trying to get hold of the envelope. So I did out of the goodness of my heart a very foolish thing. I snatched the envelope out of Van der Murphy’s hand, and completed my foolishness by saying, ‘Look, kerels, I have his thousand pounds, and when he is sober he shall have it.’ I took it to my sleeping-place, and the schelm Burghers followed, saying it was loot-money, and that they ought to have it. But I loaded my mauser, and said I would shoot any who came near my bush. I had to keep awake all night, and nearly shot one of the Johannesburgers who came near just before dawn. In the morning Van der Murphy came, with several Burghers, and demanded his money. Now, as I sat with the envelope in my hand all night, it got dirty, for you know, Sarel, I never wash my hands, having Natal sores on them, and the wrapping got very dirty, mostly about the flap. When I gave the envelope to him, he looked at it, and cried out that I had been opening it; at which my anger rose, and I told Van der Murphy that, being a thief himself, he thought everybody else was. The schelm Johannesburgers called to him to open the envelope and count the money, to see how much I had stolen. He did this, and, Sarel, truly there was no money, only bits of paper that had been wrapped round meat -tins and whisky-bottles. Then there was an outcry too awful to hear. Van der Murphy said I had robbed him, and the Burghers pulled my little sleeping-place to pieces looking for the money, and held me down and tore my clothes off, till I thought they would have killed me; when a great thought came to me. ‘Kerels,’ said I, ‘how do you know there was ever money in that envelope? You have only the word of this schelm Irishman, and where could he get a thousand pounds if he had not stolen it? If he had it, it was not his.’ ‘You are right,’ said Van der Murphy; ‘it was the Burghers’ money—loot -money—that Andries Brink gave me to hold.’ ‘Burghers,’ said I, ‘would an oprecht and slim Burgher like Andries Brink give a thousand pounds to a man who was no Afrikander? why did he not give it to Sarel or to me?’ These words struck the Burghers, and some began to tell Van der Murphy he lied, and there began great fighting; and for a long time there was tumult and division in the laager, some saying there never had been money, some that I had stolen it, or why should the paper in the envelope be the same kind as lay about the waggon of which I had charge? Others said Van der Murphy’s story was true, and that Andries Brink had deceived him, which story I supported, as it took suspicion away from me. Ah, Sarel, truly money is the root of all evil, for I had a terrible time.”

“Paul,” said I, “I have not seen the Coetzees in the laager.”

“Nay, Sarel, they went out after cattle the day you left, saying they were not lazy Burghers like the others, but meant to do their duty. They are not back yet.”

I laughed much, till Paul asked me why, saying it was not right to laugh at the troubles of another.

“I am laughing not at your troubles, Paul, but at another thing. You are a clever man, Paul, and read the truth well. There was no money in the envelope. Andries gave Van der Murphy the envelope, telling him there was a thousand pounds there, hoping he would run away with it, so that there would be one wicked man less in the laager.”

Paul shook his head. “That was going a long way round to stalk a baboon,” said he.

I did not tell him about the Coetzees, but lay down and laughed much when I thought of them sitting on the veld opening their envelopes, and I went to sleep laughing.

Next morning we were away soon after sun-up, and in three hours reached the head laager outside Ladysmith, where the General was.

I went to him as soon as he would see me, and gave him a full account of what we had been doing, making as much as I could of the attack and capture of the convoy, and as little as possible of the lancers coming and spoiling our victory.

“Lancers?” said the General. ‘My Burghers will see lancers till they die. There were no lancers, Sarel. Did you see any? Speak truth.”

“I saw steel shining, General, and nearly felt it as I rode. I myself did not believe they were lancers, but bayonet-men.”

Then the General laughed, as if he did not care whether they were lancers or bayonets, and I thought it seemed as if he did not believe me at all, but was too tired to dispute; so I rejoiced much when the General, catching sight of Charlotte outside the tent, asked, “Who is the missie?”

“Charlotte Brink, come to see your Honour,” I answered.

“The daughter of Andries Brink? What does she want?”

“She will tell you better than I. It is about a prisoner.”

“Sarel,” said the General irritably, “I will not see women—not young women; they ask too much, and get it. Send her to Ben Viljoen, or Botha, or Kemp.”

At these words Charlotte came boldly into the tent, looking very bright and pretty and smiling.

“Nay, General, I come to you because you are General, and know how to treat a woman.”

The General smiled that great smile of his, that most people thought was a sign of anger, so fierce and big was it.

“Sit down and talk, Charlotte,” said he, looking at me as if he wished me to go.

I moved towards the door, when Charlotte said, “Nay, General, Sarel must stay to hear me out in what I have to say, for the business is as much his as mine and yours.”

The General nodded, and I remained standing. Charlotte, looking hard into the little eyes of the General, began, speaking the Taal, so that it sounded quite beautiful, as they say the Italian language is.

“General, two days ago a khaki captain, named Watson, was brought in a prisoner by Sarel’s men.”

“Ja, I know; the only thing Sarel’s men have got to show for their work yet. Go on. What about him?”

“Where is he, General?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because wherever he is, he is no use here. He must come back, for he is the only man who can read the heliograph and other messages from Ladysmith.”

The General smiled, and shook his head.

“But it’s true, General; I have been using him, and he is going to teach me to read the heliograph.”

Again the General smiled his grim smile, and shook his head.

“Nay, Charlotte, he is verneuking you. These khaki captains are slim, and will not talk.”

“Nay, General, all men are fools, and will talk loosely—when they are in love.”

“And how do you know he is in love?”

Charlotte laid down her sjambok and unbuttoned the front of her bodice, where women carry such things, and took out a bundle of letters. She carefully looked through them, and, taking one, pointed to part of it, and laid it on the table before the General.

“Read that,” said she. ‘It is his own handwriting, and I have dozens like it.”

He took it up, smiling, looked at it without reading it, and put it down again.

“I cannot read this Rooinek love-stuff,” said he. “You read it. You are plainly not in love with him, or you would not show his letters. Girls only do that to other girls.”

“That’s it, General; I am not in love with him, therefore my head is clear. I want this man back, not to love him, but to use him, because I am in love with some one else who will be benefited.”

The General turned his shaggy little eyes on me, and looked hard and smiled, while I turned hot all over, and felt very uncomfortable, yet secretly pleased.

“But how will it benefit the man you love if the captain is given you?”

“It will help him do great things for the Burghers. The man I love is my father.”

The General looked at me again, and I was moved to bitter anger; why, I know not.

“Ah, I see but you cannot keep a khaki captain to talk as if he were a parrot, Charlotte. How do you use him, if I give him to you?”

“General, must a young girl teach an old man? Do you not see that if you let him come away with me he will think that I must love him much to take all this trouble, and come to see you; and he will talk the more if only to pay me, for, these English are great on what they call gratitude.”

The General again smiled; and I began to fear that he was only talking with Charlotte because she was good to look at, and amused him by her seriousness.

“But if he flies away, how do you catch him again?”

“He will not fly away, General.”

Piet thought a minute or two, looking all the time at Charlotte, who never took her eyes off the little piercing beads of the General. Then he spoke—

“Go away, and come again when I send; I will think what I can do.” And Charlotte and I left the tent.

“You did not say anything to the General about the money the captain had,” said I, when we were out of hearing of the Burghers.

She laughed. “Sarel, you are very thick; of course I talked of money to the Burghers; it is the only thing they understand. If I had not given a good reason for wanting the khaki, don’t you think they would have thought I was in love with him, and therefore not to be trusted?”

“Then had he no money?”

I wish he had.”

“Why, Charlotte?”

“Oh, because”—she hesitated, as if not certain what to answer—“because then you might have it.”

That speech left a very unpleasant feeling on me, for it did not sound a true reason, and I did not know how to read it. But what man can understand a woman when she will not be understood?

During the rest of the day, we rode round the Boer positions and watched the bombardment, which was very slow and half-hearted, as if the Burghers were not anxious to bring it to a finish.

Paul came with us, although I wanted him to stay behind and arrange the affair of Katrina with the General; but he had heard there was a certain predikant in one of the laagers, and he would not rest till he had found him, for he was one of those whom Paul was ever quarrelling with over Bible verses. He found him at last, and the two were soon at it, and disputed so long that Charlotte and I left them.

When we returned to the head laager the General had sent for us. We went to his tent, and found him reading a heap of telegrams with his secretary.

“I have found your man, Charlotte,” said he; ‘but it is not so easy to get him as you think. You see, old men see farther than young missies. If I let your khaki parrot go he will think there is some secret plan against him, and he will keep his mouth shut till he finds what it is. I have thought out a good plan. You must go to Pretoria and help him escape, which will look more natural than if the door of the cage were opened for him.”

Charlotte’s bright eyes danced with pleasure, and the General noticed it and smiled.

“Ja, General, I will go,” she said eagerly.

“Ja, you will go, and Sarel will go with you, and the wife of one of my Burghers, who is returning to Pretoria. You go to-night. When you get there, Hans Human will meet you, and will show you how to go to work; but, Charlotte, I don’t think that parrot will talk as much as you think. Still, one bird in a cage more or less will make no difference, so you can try. I shall not be angry when you come to tell me he is dumb.”

“General, don’t you think that a young girl can make a man do and say what she wishes?”

This was a bold and foolish speech, and my heart thumped, for I knew not how the General would like being chaffed by a girl on his great weakness, and in front of me and his secretary. For once the right thing to say came to me at the time it was wanted, and, almost before the dark frown had grown on the General’s face, I said—

“Why ask that foolish question, Charlotte, when his Honour knows how much you have made the khaki talk already? He thinks there is no more left for the khaki to talk about.”

This was one of the cleverest speeches I ever made on the spur of the moment, as they say in English; for immediately the face of the General got as bright as it was dark when I began my saying. He smiled his ugly smile, and waved his pipe towards the door.

“Get gone,” said he, coming up to Charlotte; “get gone before you make me talk,” and he put his great arms round her and kissed her on each cheek, she not objecting, but, on the contrary, seeming to be pleased, though I knew in my heart that her pleasure was that she had found favour in the sight of a man so useful and important as General Joubert; therefore I did not reproach her, though I thought she need not have turned the other cheek to be kissed as she did.