Chapter XII

The train by which we were to travel to Pretoria lay quite a mile beyond the head laager; and as it had no regular time for leaving, but went when convenient, we had to get on to it to be in readiness, for any time it might go. This was the more necessary for the reason that Mrs du Beer, the Burgher’s wife who was to accompany us, was, like all Afrikander women, either in a great hurry to reach the train, or treating it like an ox-waggon, that only moved when the baas gave the word. She, having lost several trains when leaving Pretoria, was now resolved not to miss this one, and hurried Charlotte and me greatly. She was too fat to ride, and there being no carts in the laager, there was nothing for it but to walk. We agreed to walk with her, and a great undertaking it was; for what with her fatness, and not being used to walking, she would sit down every few yards and cry, till I saw the wisdom of her starting so soon. Another great difficulty was in getting her into the carriage, for the train had stopped in the veld, and was very high to climb up, so that it took all the strength and skill of Charlotte, myself, and four Kafirs to get her in.

When at last inside she wanted to get out again, for the number on the carriage was the age of her mother when she died, which Mrs du Beer said was very unlucky, and a sure sign of a coming accident, especially in war-time. But, unfortunately, there was no other empty carriage to take us, and she had to stay, much to my after-sorrow. She had no sooner recovered her breath than she began a long and dismal story of the illness and death of her mother, and made such dreadful prophecies about the journey, that even old Paul at his worst would have been more desirable company, for most of his worst prophecies were never fulfilled, though he had great cleverness and skill in making his misses out to be hits.

It was nearly an hour before she had come to the death and burying of her mother; and just as I was rejoicing that she had made an end of talking, she started a matter even more dissatisfying.

“Are you going to be married at Pretoria?” she asked of Charlotte.

For the first time I had seen it, Charlotte was not ready with a sharp answer, but looked confused, and turned red. Mrs du Beer did not wait for yea or nay, but went on—

“I should not be married till the war be done, for cattle are so dear now, and your man will not be able to look after the farm. Besides, you might become a widow, and it is not good to be one too soon, before you know all about men; and there will be such lots of widows after the war, mostly having good farms and cattle, that you will not be able to pick a husband easily.”

“But I am not going to be married,” said Charlotte, when the old woman had stopped for breath.

“Then you are foolish. How old are you?”

“Nearly twenty.”

“Ah, then, you are getting old, and will soon be ugly, for I see you will never be a nice fat vrouw, but

bony.”

Then she began a long story about her marrying at thirteen years of age, and having gone to the laager to doctor her man, who had an old complaint that had been with him since he was a boy, which complaint she had been doctoring, as nobody else could, with her own physic for thirty-eight years.

It was here that Charlotte got her revenge, for I could see that she was very wroth with Mrs du Beer for telling her she was getting old and ugly, a thing that no girl likes to hear from another woman.

“When do you think he will be quite cured?” she asked very sweetly.

“He is getting much better, and only wants a little more of my physic, which I am going home to make.”

“Have you a good-sized dam on your farm?” asked Charlotte.

“Ja, very large,” answered the woman, speaking as if she did not quite understand what the question meant.

“That is good; and have you a good spring to feed it?”

“Ja, we have two; one only wants opening up to give lots of water.”

“Running all the year?” Charlotte went on.

“Ja,” said the woman, very greatly perplexed.

“Then if you have as much water as that, perhaps you will be able to make enough physic to cure him in another thirty-eight years.”

“But I do not put so much water in my medicine,” said the woman, not seeing that Charlotte was sarcastic, and only jeering at her.

“Nay? Then there has not been much rain in your parts this last few years?”

“Ja; we have had good rains for four summers.”

“Then must your man make a bigger dam and open up that other spring, or your physic will not hold out till the old man is well.”

Still the vrouw was serious, for she did not understand that girls who have had English schooling learn sarcasm with their other lessons, and went on for long, telling how she first learned to make the medicine, and how it was mixed and boiled, taking a bottle out of her bag and offering it to Charlotte and me to taste.

Although very English, Charlotte had plainly not forgotten her Afrikander good manners, which forbid one refusing to drink or eat anything offered, for she took it, and, pretending to drink, made a very wry face, then offered the bottle to me.

“It is not too strong,” said the vrouw.

“Nay; if it were, your man would not have to be taking it for thirty-eight years.”

This at last made the vrouw angry, which was what Charlotte had all the time been wishing for.

I make better physic than any vrouw in the Pretoria district,” said Mrs du Beer. “My man would long have been dead but for my physic.”

Then Charlotte, out of woman’s contrariness, said it might be good physic, but it was the wrong colour; and a long and angry indaba began on the proper colour of good medicine, Charlotte holding out for blue and Mrs du Beer for black, till Charlotte, not making the vrouw as angry as she wished, threw gunpowder on the fire by saying, “Well, I suppose I must give way. I have only physicked white people; you have physicked Kafirs, which is why your medicine is black.”

And then there was unpleasantness, which, as the end of the story will show, turned out bad for Charlotte and me; for it is a mistake to make a woman angry with sarcasm, as the longer it takes her to see through it, the longer is her anger when she does.

It was a dreadful journey, for the train being used for military purposes, it only moved on as wanted, and often went back to a station we had left an hour before; so that there was too much time for the women to quarrel together, as they did over everything, mostly on the names of the stations we passed, Charlotte always denying it was the place Mrs du Beer said it was, even with the name-board right in front of the carriage window, for she knew the vrouw could not read. At the Nigel came the crowning blow.

“This is Nigel; I lived hereby when I was first married,” said Mrs du Beer.

“They have changed the name long ago,” said Charlotte, still full of contradiction. ‘It is Baavians’ Kloof now.”

Mrs du Beer made no answer, but called the guard, and asked him the name of the place.

Before he could answer, Charlotte put her head out of the window, right into the face of the guard.

“This is Baavians’ Kloof, is it not?” said she to him, in a way that said plainly, “You must agree with me.” Of course he did.

“The name has been changed a long time, has it not?” Again the guard said Yes.

Then Charlotte turned to Mrs du Beer,—

“Will you contradict me again? Your physic has made your eyes and memory bad,” said she.

I cannot put on paper all the hard things that the vrouw said to Charlotte, for I regret to say that my late countrywomen, especially as they get old, do not say nice things when they get angry, and Mrs du Beer had a very slipping tongue. But if she was rude, Charlotte was vinegar, and said things that no man could say and escape fighting; nor would she let me stop her, but when I tried to make peace she said I of course sided with the old woman, which was not true, and she would not speak to me for an hour.

During this silence I was wondering if, after all, there was any great difference between Charlotte and Katrina; both used their tongues to hurt with, only one was a knobkerrie, the other a stinging little sjambok.

We reached Pretoria sixty-four hours after leaving Ladysmith, perhaps the longest time ever taken by a train between those places; and certainly no man ever suffered more in the distance than I did from the jangling of the two women.

When we got out, the vrouw offered her hand to Charlotte, and, I believe, would have kissed her; but she pretended not to see it, and, walking up to some porters and Burghers, said something to them. I noticed that they all began to look serious, and moved away from the carriages.

“What did you say to them?” I asked.

“I told them to take care, as the old vrouw had been nursing her man who is sick with smallpox at Ladysmith, and now she will have to stay in the carriage, for they will all be afraid to lift her out. If you go to her I shall not speak to you again,” said she, thus stopping me from doing what I had no wish to do—help Mrs du Beer out, for she was very heavy.

I afterwards learned there was great trouble about that smallpox, and that they would not let her leave the train till they had telegraphed to Ladysmith to know the truth; and as this took long, it was many hours before she was let go. Even then the white men would not go near her, for there is nothing an Afrikander fears more than smallpox, except lancers.

We had to wait for some time for Mr Human—the irregular train service putting him out in his calculations—on our arrival, so that Charlotte had time to stay and look on, while Mrs du Beer stormed and abused everybody, till they put the train, with her in it, on a siding.

I was not pleased to see how much Charlotte enjoyed the unhappiness of the old woman. ‘That will teach her to call me ugly,” was all she would say when I tried to get her to cease to look and laugh at the efforts of the old vrouw to make the railway people believe that she had not been near smallpox.

When Mr Human came, he told us that he had received instructions from General Joubert what to do with us. Charlotte he took to his house, and I went to the Transvaal Hotel.

This was my first visit to Pretoria since I had left the Transvaal, as I thought for ever; and I was a little fearsome lest the Burghers who knew me should say hard things, as they did when I went back to Prinsloosdorp. But it happened that those who knew me best were away on commando, and the town was full of strange Hollanders and Germans, who knew me not. I, however, made two great mistakes, as the end showed. First, I did not write to Katrina telling her of my coming, which I quite intended to do, though not until I was on the eve of returning; secondly, I did not call on the President, for I afterwards learned that these omissions were taken as evidence that I wanted my presence kept secret from Katrina, and that I feared to face Paul Kruger, after running away from the Transvaal. But when a man has been shut up with two quarrelling women for sixty hours, he is in no mood to face other troubles. I was sorely in need of rest, and hurried to the hotel.

I saw Charlotte next day with Mr Human, when I was told all about the plans. Charlotte was to write a letter to Captain Watson, who was with the other officers in the Model School. It would be delivered by Mr Human, who had the right to visit the place; and when, after proper delay, the captain got away he was to stay a few days in a house that Mr Human had, ‘then go off with Charlotte and myself, who would have a pass for three.

Charlotte wrote the letter at the dictation of Mr Human. It said: ‘I am here. Trust the bearer, and do what he bids you. Watch for me at io o’clock each morning.”

There was no signature; so that if it got into wrong hands no one would be implicated.

“But how will he know it is from you?” I asked, seeing that Charlotte had written in a partially disguised hand.

“You have never been in love, Sarel,” said she, “or you would know that a man always knows the handwriting of his sweetheart. When I was at school at Bloemfontein I used to write to dozens of boys in different hands without my name, and they always knew whom the letter came from.”

Mr Human took charge of the letter, and, an hour later, Charlotte and I went up the street by the Model School, walking slowly on the side opposite, so that if the captain should be on the verandah he could not fail to see Charlotte. We afterwards learned that he did see her, and was much cheered; but it was not till next day we saw him, in the distance, and the pleasure on his face would have made anybody suspect that something good had happened.

A letter in reply was brought to Charlotte that day, and in it the captain wanted to know if others of his friends could be included in the escape; but this was not in the plan, and Mr Human told Charlotte to answer nay, which I could see was much against her will, for she would not write until Mr Human had shown her how impossible it was.

If you want the captain, why make it harder by expecting too much?” said I; for I could not understand how, if she only wanted the captain for his usefulness, she should wish to help his friends.

“Don’t you see, thick one, that the more I do as he wishes, the more he will have to do as I wish when I have him?” which was a clever answer, but I felt it was not the real one.

After much discussion Charlotte wrote as Mr Human desired.

Of course it would have been easy to get the captain out at once, but it was part of the plan to make the business appear very hard and tedious; for, if too easy, he might suspect a trap, which we had great difficulty in making Charlotte see. So several days were allowed to pass without anything more being done except the writing of letters by Charlotte and the captain, and there being much time to kill, Charlotte and I walked about together.

Somehow she appeared to have lost all interest in me since we came to Pretoria. She talked less to me, and became more masterful, making me do all sorts of things for her, never even asking whether I would, but saying only, “Do this,” or “Go there”; and often, when we were together in some quiet place, she would take out a bundle of the captain’s letters and read them to herself, just as if I was not there. If she did speak, it was only to tell me to do something, or to make some remark about my looks, or my speech, or my ignorance, till I was almost tempted to say, “If you

P think me so ignorant, why do you use me so much?” But somehow I felt afraid to say what I would like, for she had a way of looking me straight in the face for a long time without speaking a word, then going on with her reading, as if she thought it too great a waste of words to answer me.

One day we had been sitting in the park for some time, Charlotte reading as usual, and speaking little to me, when suddenly she looked up from her letter and said—

“Sarel, how much money have you?”

I thought a little, and told her about fifty pounds.

“What is the good of fifty pounds?” she answered, most contemptuously. “Is that all you have?”

I thought of the nine hundred pounds her father had belonging to me, and wondered whether I could borrow something in Pretoria on the security of that, for I had got to that state of childishness when a man will do any foolishness if he thinks it would please a woman.

“How much do you want?” I asked.

“Hundreds;—a thousand;—all that I can get,’ she answered, with great earnestness.

I wanted much to know why she needed all this money, and was framing a question that would not offend her, as most of mine did, when she put her hand on mine—a thing she had never done before— and said, “Will you help me to get a lot of money?”

“Certainly,” said I, too pleased and surprised to say anything else. “Certainly, if I can,” I added, for something in her manner told me she was going to ask a great thing.

“Oh, you can, if you are not afraid,” she said.

“I am not afraid of anything,” I answered hotly.

“Except your Burghers—and me. But I think you will do this to help me.”

“Of course I will.”

“Say “God’s truth.”

I said it, and we shook hands.

“Now,” said she, “if you back out after saying ‘God’s truth,’ you will go to hell, won’t you?”

“Certainly,” I said, though my mind went after the many witnesses who had taken false oaths in my Court, and were not yet dead.

“Do you know Coos Vorster’s farm on the Krugersdorp Road?” Charlotte next asked.

I told her I did.

“Then to-morrow you must get a cart or something and drive out there. You must have a pass from the field -cornet to go out of Pretoria, and take some hammers and chisels and things to open a strong-box. I will get a horse and ride out alone, and will meet you there at noon.”

I was going to ask a few questions, for the whole thing was so strange and sudden, but Charlotte got up from the seat.

“Those people are listening,’ said she; ‘talk of something else.”

We walked out of the park to near Human’s house, when Charlotte told me I must go no farther with her.

“What shall I tell the field-cornet if he wants to know where I am going?” I asked.

“Tell him you are going to look at Coos Vorster’s house and farm; that the old man saw you at Ladysmith, and asked you to do this. But, mind, not a word about me.”

Before I could ask another question Charlotte was off down the street.

I went right away about the pass. I had no difficulty, for it seems I was known better than I expected, and the few officials I met treated me respectfully, for I afterwards learned that Mr Human had told them I was up on a secret mission from General Joubert, and his name was a pass anywhere in those days. It proved useful in another way, for I borrowed a Cape-cart, thereby saving several pounds, for the lender would never think of asking payment from a commandant.

I lay awake much that night—as had been my habit since Charlotte had come into my life—wondering what the morrow’s business meant, and trying hard to connect it with the money that Charlotte was so anxious to get. I had made inquiries, and learned that old Vorster was an uncle to Charlotte; that he was away on commando, and, having no wife or family, had left his place deserted, sending his cattle to another farm in the low veld.

When I reached the farmhouse, well before the appointed time, Charlotte was sitting on the stoep, eating sweets that I had bought her the previous day, for she was a true Boer girl in that matter. I also noticed another thing, which made her even more a Boer maiden. Instead of the riding-habit, cap, and gloves that she had always worn before, she was wearing an ordinary walking skirt, and a kappjie such as Boer girls wear on the farm to keep their faces nice. No one would have thought her now a girl as full of English notions as if born in London.

“Shall I outspan?” I asked.

“That depends on how quick you are. You have first to break open the door.”

“Have you no key?”

“Have you no hammer, as I bade you?”

I went to the window, being the easier, and, opening it, got inside the sitting-room and opened the door for Charlotte. She came in, and took a good look round.

“I have not been here since I was a child, which must be long ago, as I am getting so old, as that cat Vrouw du Beer told me. Oh, Sarel, was it not beautiful about the smallpox!” and she sat on the sofa and laughed. Then she sprang up, and went to the bedroom, saying impatiently, “Come, Sarel, don’t stand like a sheep; come and help me,” as if it were I who had delayed.

The room was seemingly just as old Vorster had left it the last time he slept in it,—very dirty and untidy.

“Pull away this bed,” said Charlotte.

I obeyed; and without any help from her I got the heavy wooden bedstead away from its place near the wall. There were boxes, old harness, and all sorts of cumbersome rubbish beneath.

“Move all that,” said Charlotte, as if giving orders to a Kafir, and in a way that I would not have permitted from any other man or woman; but Charlotte was so different to others.

When the things were removed Charlotte sat down on the floor, which, as in all old Boer houses, was of dagga or ant-hill earth, made black, hard, and shiny with bullocks’ blood. Presently she pointed to a spot where the dagga looked less smooth.

“Give me the chisel,” said she; and with it she worked at the spot for a minute or two, when up came a square block, showing a hole about eighteen inches square.

I saw at once that Charlotte was looking for money, for this hole was of a kind very common in the houses of Boers who had no trust in banks.

“See what is here,” said she, and I got down and felt.

The space was about a yard deep, but there was nothing there save dust and some dirty paper, and bits of buckskin in which, doubtless, money had been once wrapped.

Charlotte sat with her grey eyes fixed on me in a way she had when she was thinking deeply. Then she got up, saying, “Come to the forage-house; I remember something.”

I broke open the door with a spade, and we stood inside. It was a large stone building, full to the roof with every kind of farm rubbish, from ploughs and tools to old sheep- and ox-skins, horns, old furniture, and sacks. On the rafters was a coffin, which most Boers keep in readiness. Charlotte pointed to it, saying very shortly, “Get that down.”

My heart turned at the thought; but I had not the courage to say nay, and with many hurts, and much dust and turmoil, I got the cumbersome thing down, breaking one end in the falling. There was in it an old elephant gun, very rusty and broken, and a powder-flask made of a large ox-horn. I took it up, and noticed that it felt very heavy. I thought it was full of bullets or shot.

“Break it open,” said Charlotte.

With difficulty I prised out the plug that stopped the wide end, and saw an old stocking, that I knew in an instant covered money. Charlotte snatched it from me, and untied the bits of reim that bound it.

“It is money,” said she very quietly, as if not at all surprised, and she poured it out into her lap. There were sovereigns and silver, and a few bank-notes, certainly not more than a hundred pounds all told.

“There must be more than this; look at those horns,” said Charlotte, pointing to a heap of many score very dirty and battered ox-horns lying in a heap on the floor.

I took them up one by one, and had examined perhaps half of the heap, when I found one plugged with dirt at the thick end, and very heavy. Inside it was fifty pounds in gold. Presently came another and another. We had at last come upon old Vorster’s bank, though through no accident, for Charlotte afterwards told me that she remembered as a child staying at the farm, and being whipped by her uncle for taking away a horn and throwing it into the dam. She was told that she had drowned a hundred pounds of bank-notes, which proved the truth.

As I found the horns that contained the money, Charlotte opened them by removing the plug of dry mud, and poured the coins into a Kafir cooking-pot.

When I had examined all the horns, Charlotte bade me look in several other places, but we found nothing more; so we carried the pot into the sitting-room and counted the heap. It was mostly gold and silver, but there were many bank-notes, some of them so dirty that we could scarcely read the name of the bank, and in many cases the half of a five-pound note was pinned on to the half of a ten- or even twenty-pound note. But, making allowance for what might be lost through this carelessness, we reckoned the money at £3400.

When it was all counted, we looked around for something convenient to put it into, and I found a paraffin-tin. Charlotte tore up the bed-quilt, and wrapped and packed the money tightly in it, the whole making a very solid and heavy parcel.

While she was doing this, I for the first time put into words what had been in my mind all the time.

“Charlotte,” said I, “whose money is this?”

“Mine, of course,” she answered shortly.

“But I do not understand.”

“There is much you do not understand, Sarel.”

“Perhaps so; but did your uncle give you this money?”

“He is going to; it will be mine when he dies.”

“Then you are stealing it.”

“How can I steal what is my own? I thought you told me you were a lawyer?”

“Ja; it is because I have been a public prosecutor and am a law-agent that I want to know all about it. Suppose Oom Vorster says I stole it?”

“That is what he will say if he finds you have been here. Are you not a Government man?”

“But, Charlotte, I shall get into trouble.”

“Of course you will if you are foolish enough to tell people you have been here.”

“But do I not have any of it?”

Charlotte thought a little, with her eyes on my face, as usual when she thought deeply.

“Yes; I will give you half.”

I was pleased at this, and made no more objections, for whatever I might say, this clever girl always had an answer to silence me.

“Now, Sarel,” said she, when we were ready to leave, “you must wait here till four o’clock. It will then be dark before you get into Pretoria. Then you must drive straight to a store and buy one of those big tin boxes that ladies put frocks and things in when they travel by train, and put the paraffin-tin inside it. Lock it up, and drive to the house I showed you, where the captain is to be hidden, and I will be there to meet you. See how I trust you, leaving you alone with so much money, and you a public prosecutor!”

“And do I have my half when I get there?”

“Of course. You cannot take it now, stupid.”

I helped her into the saddle and she cantered off.

When she had gone, I sat smoking and thinking, for it would not be four o’clock for an hour or more. My thoughts were very mixed—some happy, some not. I did not quite believe Charlotte’s story as to the money being hers, though the old man might leave her some of it. Then I thought it was war-time, and old Vorster was foolish to leave his money in this way. Besides that, he was a bad old man, and had made his wealth by robbing the Government over road-contracts, and by supplying weevily mealies to feed prisoners in the jails. Even if we took this three thousand pounds, it would not hurt him, for he must have more hidden somewhere, as he had been a Government contractor many years and spent very little. Once or twice I thought I would keep the money for myself, but I did not encourage this way of thinking, for if it were true that the old man had promised it to Charlotte, it would be wrong for me to rob a young girl of her inheritance as if I were a Government Orphan Master. On the other hand, I thought, if trouble came it would be better that I should take the blame than her, for I already was supposed to have stolen; but if I was to take the blame why should I not have the money? But I could think of no way of getting away with it, for if I were to hide it, Charlotte was so strong and fearless that she would fight me hard. So I resolved to be honest and do my best to carry out my promise, though as a lawyer I knew such an agreement was not binding.

I made one more good search over the place, thinking that I might yet find more, it being absurd to think that a Government contractor who stood well at Pretoria should have only three thousand pounds; but I was not rewarded. So I closed up the place, making it appear as much undisturbed as I could, and putting the paraffin-tin in the cart—a heavy job—I covered it with an old sack and drove towards Pretoria.

As is ever the case when one desires to escape notice, and goes by back-roads and ways that have little traffic, I seemed to meet every Burgher I knew in the place, some of whom would ask whence I came. To all I gave such answers as I thought would throw them off the spoor, for my legal experience had taught me the danger of evidence such as these witnesses might be able to give should I have to deny having been to Vorster’s place.

I reached Pretoria just after dark, and drove to the first store I saw open, where I bought such a box as Charlotte had described, and had the paraffin-tin put into it by the Kafirs—a task that they made very long, causing me great uneasiness, for they kept making remarks on the heaviness of the tin. But no mishap occurred, and I took a roundabout way to the house where I was to meet Charlotte. Like the clever girl she was, she was ready for me with a Kafir to carry up the box without any delay, nor would she let me do as I at first wished,—leave the Cape-cart outside while I talked with her. So I drove to the stable and returned on foot. The house, like most such in Pretoria, stood far back from the road, and was well covered in by trees and bushes, and had a wide verandah well screened with grenadilla, where we could sit and see without being seen from the street.

Charlotte had changed her dress, and looked very sweet and pink in something new, better and nicer than I had yet seen her, and a great love for her came up in my heart. We sat together on the verandah, there being no one in the place but the Kafir, for the house was one in which had lived the young Hollander clerks of Mr Human’s office; but they being on commando, the place was on the hands of the owner, who had left it in charge of Mr Human.

We sat in silence for some time watching the leaves flickering in the electric light that makes Pretoria so beautiful by night. I was very happy, but all the time feeling I should be more so if Charlotte would say something about dividing the money. But she never, did say what I expected, for when she spoke, after what seemed a long silence, it was to say a very strange thing.

“Sarel,” said she, “how much does it cost for two people to go to England?”

I told her it came to about a hundred pounds from Pretoria.

“How many thirty pounds are there in three thousand pounds?” was her next question. I reckoned it up on the back of an envelope and found there were one hundred.

“That is one hundred months, so that three thousand pounds would last eight years and four months. How much does it cost to live in London?”

I told her I did not know, but had heard it was cheap if the Londoners did not know you came from Africa, in which case they charged double for everything.

“Are you going to England?” I asked, for these questions perplexed me much.

“Yes, some day. I want to see the Queen and the Crystal Palace—because I don’t believe there is such a place—and the wax-works.”

But,” said I, “you will not have three thousand pounds; half of it is mine.”

“I have been counting since you were away, and I find I cannot give you half. I can only give you a thousand pounds, and you must lend me that for a little while. You will, Sarel, won’t you?” and she put her hand on mine, as she did when she asked me to help her get the money. Before I knew what I was saying I said Yes. I had no sooner said it than I was angry with myself, particularly as Charlotte took her hand away directly I had spoken.

“I mean that I will lend you half my half,” I said, when I had got over my surprise and disappointment.

“No, half is no good,” said she with great coldness and firmness. “If you don’t play fair and are greedy, I will give all the money to Mr Human to take care of.”

This frightened me much, for I knew that she was quite likely to do it, and the thought came to me that if I pretended to agree with her I might get my full share, so I told her I would let her have all.

“That is quite right, Sarel,” said she; “it is much better that I should have the money, for you might be killed, or, worse still, the Government might take it from you. I heard Mr Human say the officials in Pretoria quite expected that the Government would call on them to pay up something from their savings, as the war was running away with all the money in the Treasury. And now that all is settled we will talk of something else, for the khaki captain comes here to-night.”

Hearing her say this, and the memory that she had my thousand pounds and her father nine hundred, made me desperate, for I could see that unless I did something I should soon have neither money nor Charlotte; so with great courage I said what I had been wanting to say for so long.

“Ja, Charlotte,” said I, “that is settled; now let us settle another thing.”

“What is that?” she asked, showing no surprise.

“Do what Mrs du Beer thought we were going to do.”

“I don’t understand,” Charlotte answered, though something in the tone of her voice told me that she was not speaking the truth.

“Let us get married,” I said boldly.

She made no answer; but although she sat where the electric light could not reach her face, I felt that she was looking at me with her soft grey eyes wide open.

“Charlotte,” said I, “the three thousand we have is quite enough to get married on. Then I have half shares in thirty-five salted oxen running on my cousin’s place, and there is nine hundred pounds your father owes me, and I have a secret share in a Kafir liquor-canteen at Prinsloosdorp—what more can you want, Charlotte?”

She was still silent.

“Is it that you love the khaki captain?”

For the first time she seemed to hear me. “No,” said she, but not firmly or as if she meant it; ‘but I did not know you wanted to marry me. Wait a bit till I make up my mind whether I want to marry; wait till to-morrow.”

“I will wait as long as you like, if you will only agree to marry me.”

She thought again for a minute, then, putting her hand on my shoulder, said very kindly, “Sarel, I have not known you long enough to say whether I will marry you; but if you do what I wish, and say nothing more about it till I tell you you may, I will marry you, if——”

“If what?”

“If I can. I can’t say more than that, can I

I told her I was satisfied with that agreement, though I did not do as she did when I promised to help her steal the money,—make her take an oath. I thought it would be the same if she kissed me, but she made no sign of wanting to do that.

“Are you going to kiss me?” I asked.

‘Yes, Sarel, when it is all properly arranged. But you must go now, for I have to change my dress. Come back at ten o’clock, when the captain will be

here.”

I went away, feeling not so happy as I should have liked; for I thought it strange that if she did not love the khaki captain she should want to put on another new frock, when the one she wore was already new and beautiful. It was so very much like a Boer maiden to show all her clothes to the man she wanted to marry. She had not done this to me; for though she made me buy her gloves and other women’s things, she never untied the parcel while I was with her, so that often I never saw what I had paid for.

These thoughts came like a little cloud over the sun on a bright day; and before I knew it, I found myself at the door of the bar of the Transvaal Hotel, a place I rarely went into unless I wanted to see a member of the Raad or a Government official.

Standing at the bar was the brother of Katrina, Frikkie Bester, one of the most wicked, drunken, and idle Burghers in all the Transvaal. He was, as usual, drinking at some one else’s expense, and, getting very boisterous, telling stories of his wondrous doings at Elandslaagte and Talana, places he never saw, for he was sent back very early for taking money out of the pockets of sleeping Burghers.

As soon as I recognised Frikkie, I did what he would have done on the sight of an enemy—got quickly out of sight, and walked about one of the few streets where there was no electric light. And this was the way of my thoughts:—

If I married Katrina, I should have to keep in idleness this schelm, for he was always seeking whom he might devour. When I was first courting his sister he was ever with us when we wanted to be alone, so that I had to give him money to go away and drink. Then he got clothes and things from me as a reward for keeping Teenie Keiser away from the house, he telling me that Teenie was so jealous of me that he would shoot me if he came and found me with Katrina; and all the time there was no such person. Then when it became a proper engagement, he came and stayed at my house free for a month, and I only got rid of him by lending him ten pounds and giving him a railway-ticket to Pretoria. Ever since I had known him, he had been as a fly on a sore place to me, constantly coming to my office when I was most busy, or sitting next me in court, and making remarks about the cases, particularly when Kafirs were being prosecuted, for he hated them badly.

The memory of all that I had suffered through this man made me resolve that I would never have him for a relation. I would marry Charlotte, and with the money that would thereby come, I would pay Katrina the thousand pounds she had insisted on my borrowing from her, and be a free man, with a wife who was not too fat to walk round the kitchen without having to sit down and groan, and who was not always saying she was twelve years older than I, and therefore able to give me good advice. Neither would Charlotte be always wanting to physic people who were well, but would buy her medicine at the chemists’ in proper bottles, and not quarrel with him for giving small measure, as Katrina always did. Then I thought of Nick Smit, who had a wife like Katrina, only more horrible to look upon; and though he was a high official, he had to keep her in the bedroom or kitchen when the State Secretary or any one respectable called. Then there came up pictures of Charlotte, looking clean and pink through washing, often more than twice a-day, and wearing nice frocks that fitted her, and did not make her look like a sack of mealie-meal tied round the middle with string, as Katrina did, even when dressed for Nachtmaal in a blue silk dress that cost ten pounds in Johannesburg.

It is wondrous how things fit to help one’s thoughts; for as I walked, thinking thus, down one of the quiet streets where the rich Pretoria people mostly live, I saw a young and beautifully dressed woman standing on the verandah saying good-bye to some friends who were leaving. As she stood in her white dress, shining under the electric light, a man whom I took to be her husband came up behind her from the house and stood with one arm round her waist, looking very proud. I could well picture myself doing that to Charlotte, when I ceased to fear her, but not to Katrina, for not only was she too fat round the waist, but once or twice, when I did do such a thing, she pushed me away, saying, “Don’t be a fool, Sarel.” The sight of so much beautiful happiness on that verandah made me sad and jealous, and I resolved that never again would I see Katrina, whether I married Charlotte or not.

It was yet far off ten o’clock, and I was getting hungry, for I had feared to go back to the hotel because of Frikkie Bester; but I remembered I had some biscuit in my haversack in my bedroom, so went by the back of the hotel to my room. The door was open, and, looking in, I saw a man lying on my bed. My haversack, and several small parcels of things I had bought, lay open about the floor.

While I looked, the man on the bed turned round. It was Frikkie Bester. He jumped up as well and quickly as he could, being very unsteady with whisky, and had his arms round my neck to hold him quiet and straight while he was calling me in English, which he always spoke instead of the Taal, of which he said he was ashamed.

“Good old Sarel! dear old chappie!” he kept saying, pulling me nearly over, for I am not a very large man. “I heard you had come, Sarel, and I waited for you. I have borrowed a collar, Sarel,” and I saw that he had tried to put on a new one; but as he could only fasten the back button, it stood out from his neck very stupidly, and the more so, as he had the old and dirty collar still hanging by one end from the front button; nor would he allow me to remove one or the other, being in that contradictory stage of whisky when a man says everything is all right.

It was in vain that I tried to persuade him to go away. He clung to me, and insisted that I should go down to the bar and drink with him. So, as the people in the hotel were opening their doors to see what the noise was about, and one old Burgher told me I ought to feel shame for being drunk, I went with Frikkie, which I should have had to do in any case, unless I wanted him to fall down the stairs and break his neck; for, like all Boers, he was not used to them, and when full of whisky always would go down backwards, because he said looking down made him giddy and feel stupid; but he looked much more stupid the way he would go.

Arrived in the bar, he called for whisky, inviting the four or five Burghers and Hollanders there to drink with him.

“Who is paying for them?” asked the barman. “Commandant Sarel Erasmus here, my brother-in-law.”

“I am not your brother-in-law,” I answered angrily, but not because I had to pay for the drinks, which I quite expected.

“But you soon will be, Sarel, and a good brother-in-law;” and he took my hand and put it into the hands of the other Burghers, saying, ‘You know Sarel; he ran away with the fine-money from Prinsloosdorp. Good old Sarel! Fill up again, boys; Sarel has plenty of money.”

“You are a liar, and you are drunk,” said I in great wrath, trying to get away; but Frikkie caught hold of me and tried to put his arms round my neck.

“He says his brother-in-law is drunk, and that I am not his brother-in-law; but I shall be, Sarel, when you marry Katrina. Good old Katrina! weighs two hundred pounds, Katrina; champion fat woman of Transvaal, Katrina.”

“Again I say I am no relation of yours, and never will be,” said I, at last shaking Frikkie off.

“What! not marry Katrina after stealing her thousand pounds?” and he was beginning to tell the Burghers about that much misunderstood business, when I could stand no more; but taking up a bottle from the counter I hit him a hard knock on the side of the head, and he fell on to the floor, groaning and crying.

The men drank up their whisky and went away.

“You had better take him up to bed,” said the barman.

“Never,” said I. “He is nobody to me; I only know who he is,” and I did as the other Burghers, and left.

I walked quickly away towards the house where Charlotte was, my heart thumping hard with anger, and altogether feeling very ill and unfit, for I was not quite satisfied whether, if I had killed Frikkie, I had now sufficient friends to secure my discharge should trouble come of it.

When I arrived in front of the house it was not yet ten o’clock. There was no light to be seen inside, so I walked quietly up through the palms and oleanders towards the verandah, and presently, by the light from the electric street lamp, saw something.

Charlotte was on the verandah in a white dress, and a tall man was holding her with his arm. The sight made me step from behind the bush. At the sound of my foot on the path the two started apart.

“Is that you, Sarel?” came the voice of Charlotte, very softly and sweetly, for her voice was more like an English than a Boer girl’s, and particularly her laugh, which had only music, and no harsh croak and gurgle in it.

I made no sound or answer.

“See what it is, dear,” I heard her whisper, and the man, whom, by his tallness and straightness, I knew to be the one I had seen on the verandah of the Model School, stepped off the stoep and came towards me. I believe that if I had had a revolver I should have killed him as he came, so angry was I at what I had seen and heard. For a moment there passed through my heart a quick thought that even without a gun I might so injure him that Charlotte might not want to marry him, especially if I spoiled his face. But the thought went away as quickly as it had come, for he was a big and strong man, and carried his hands low in front of him, as men do who are ready for danger and know how to use their fists. So I stepped out, saying, “It is I, Sarel.”

“Come up, Sarel; we have been waiting long for you,” said Charlotte, which could not be true, as it was even yet not the hour fixed for my coming. But in a moment my anger was cooled, for as I got upon the verandah Charlotte took:me by the hand and led me into the sitting-room, the man following. Still holding my hand, Charlotte presented me, saying, “Captain Watson, this is Commandant Sarel Erasmus, who has done so much to help me and you.’

The captain shook hands, saying how glad he was to meet me, and how grateful for all I had done, and spoke as if he meant it. He was a fine-looking man, just the kind that young girls fresh from school always admire most, and pick out in pictures as the men they will marry; and when I had had a good look at him, and felt how much bigger he was than I, a sad conviction came over me that after all it was the man Charlotte wanted, and not his usefulness at reading the heliograph.

So deep was my grief that I had not noticed that Mr Human was also in the room; neither could I listen to what he and the captain were saying to me about the escape, and the plans for the future. I had no eyes or ears but for Charlotte, and I could only watch her soft grey eyes as they followed the captain wherever he moved, never once looking at me as I sat in misery on a couch in the darkest corner of the room.

When we had drunk coffee, Mr Human said it was time that we went, and soon after we left the captain.

As we got into the street, Charlotte came up to me, saying in her masterful way to Mr Human, “Go on in front; I have to talk to Sarel,” and he meekly obeyed, as men always did with Charlotte.

“Sarel,” said she, taking hold of my arm, “I do not love silly jealous men. Why are you jealous of the captain?”

“Charlotte, I saw something on the stoep.”

“Of course you did,” said she, quite unconcernedly. “You saw him kiss me, I suppose? Is it very wonderful that an English captain should kiss a girl who he believes has got him out of prison, and especially when he loves her? Some men have more love and courage than others.”

“But if you do not love him, why did you let him kiss you?”

“Sarel, you are a fool. Would you have me say to the captain I am not in love with him, but with some one else, and so spoil all our plans? If you have no brains yourself, why should you think others have none, too?”

These words made me happy again, and I kissed Charlotte boldly, which she did not resist, though she seemed surprised.

“Now,” said she, quickening her walk to catch up with Mr Human, “if you are again a fool I will have nothing to do with you, for I have no use for fools,” and before I could frame an answer, she was walking beside Mr Human, holding his arm, and chatting and laughing as if nothing of any importance had happened.

I was wishful to go with them into the house, hoping that perhaps Charlotte might have other things to say to me; but she said “Good night” at the gate in a way that forbade any such hope, and walked away, saying to Mr Human, “Tell Sarel about to-morrow.”

Mr Human did say something, but I had no ears for him; my ears and my heart had gone into the house with Charlotte. So I said good night before he had made an end of talking, and for an hour walked before the house, till the police came and asked me what I did and who I was, walking to the hotel with me, as they said, to make sure that my story was true, but, as I knew well, that they might get drink.

It was not till they came up to me that I remembered Frikkie Bester, and for a moment I got a great schrick, thinking he might be dead, and that they had come to arrest me. But they made no mention of him; and when we got to the hotel the barman made my heart rejoice by telling me that he had doctored Frikkie, and sent him home very much cut, but not hurt. So I gave him a sovereign, told him to give the policemen drinks, and went to bed.