CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
OOM STARTLES HIS FRIENDS.
The days glided peacefully by, with Dyke kept busy enough supplying thelarder, especially for his brother's benefit, and under his treatmentthe poor fellow grew better.
But so slowly; and he was the mere ghost of his former self when hebegan to crawl out of the house by the help of a stick, to sit in theshade and watch Dyke as he was busy about the place.
There was very little to vary the monotony of their life. A lion cameone night, but did not molest horse or bullock. They had visits, too,from the jackals, but Tanta Sal was right--Jack came no more, and theysaw nothing of the Kaffirs who had been his companions, though Dykefound a rough hut and traces of a fire in the patch of forest close towhere he went to shoot the guinea-fowl, showing that he must often havebeen pretty near the Kaffirs' hiding-place.
In fact, Jack had had a very severe peppering, and felt not theslightest inclination to risk receiving another.
The subject of giving up Kopfontein was often discussed, but even if itwere done, it seemed evident that many months must elapse before Emsonwould be fit to travel; so the subject was talked of less often, thoughone thing was evident both to Dyke and his brother--their scheme ofostrich-farming had completely broken down, and unless a bold attemptwere made to start afresh, they would gradually become poorer andpoorer, for alone, all Dyke's efforts to collect valuable skins weredisposed to be rather unfruitful, try hard as he would.
Months had passed, and they had had no more black visitors, but one dayTanta Sal rushed into the house where the brothers were seated atdinner, with such a look of excitement upon her features, that Dykesprang up, seized one of the guns and handed another to his brother, whostood up, looking weak, but determined to help if danger were at hand.
But Tanta gesticulated, pushed the guns away, and signed to Dyke tofollow.
The cause of the woman's excitement was evident directly, for there, amile away, was a wagon drawn by a long team of oxen, and it was evidentthat they were to have visitors at the farm.
"Some poor wretch going up in the wilds to seek his fortune," said Emsonrather sadly. "I wish him better luck than ours, young un."
"Oh, I say, Joe, don't talk in that doleful way," cried Dyke excitedly."This is so jolly. It's like being Robinson Crusoe and seeing a sail.Here, wait while I fetch the glass."
Dyke returned the next minute with his hands trembling so that he couldhardly focus and steady the "optic tube." Then he shouted in hisexcitement, and handed the telescope to his brother.
"Why, it's that fat old Dutchman, Morgenstern! Who'd have thought ofseeing him?"
Sure enough it was the old trader, seated like the Great Mogul in theold woodcuts. He was upon the wagon-box, holding up an enormously longwhip, and two black servants were with him--one at the head of the longteam of twelve oxen, the other about the middle of the double line ofsix, as the heavy wagon came slowly along, the bullocks seeming tocrawl.
"I am glad," cried Dyke. "I say, Joe, see his great whip? He looked inthe glass as if he were fishing."
"Tant make fine big cake--kettle boil--biltong tea?" asked the Kaffirwoman hospitably.
"Yes," said Emson quietly. "But," he continued, as Tanta Sal ran off tothe back of the house, "it may not be Morgenstern, young un. FatGermans look very much alike."
"Oh, but I feel sure this is the old chap.--I say, what's the German forfat old man?"
"I don't know. My German has grown rusty out here. Dicker alte Mann,perhaps. Why?"
"Because I mean to call him that. He always called me booby."
"No, bube:--boy," said Emson, smiling.
They stood watching the wagon creeping nearer and nearer for a minute ortwo, Dyke longing to run to meet the visitors; but he suddenly recalledthe orderly look at Morgenstern's, and rushed back into the house to tryto make their rough board a little more presentable; and he was still inthe midst of this task, when, with a good deal of shouting from theKaffir servants, and sundry loud cracks of the great whip, the wagon,creaking and groaning, stopped at the fence in front of the house, andthe old German shouted:
"Ach! mein goot vrient Emzon, how you vas to-day? Vere is der bube?"
"Dicker alte Mann!" said Dyke between his teeth, and hurriedly brushingaway some crumbs, and throwing a skin over the chest in which variousodds and ends were kept, he listened to the big bluff voice outside asMorgenstern descended.
"It is goot to shack hant mit an Englander. Bood you look tin, meinvrient. You haf been down mit dem vever?"
"Yes, I've been very ill."
"That is nod goot. Bood you ged besser now. Ach, here is der poy!Ach! mein goot liddle bube, ant how you vas?"
Dyke's hands were seized, and to his horror the visitor hugged him tohis broad chest, and kissed him loudly on each cheek.
"Oh, I'm quite well," said Dyke rather ungraciously, as soon as he couldget free.
"Ov goorse you vas. Grade, pig, oogly, shtrong poy. I am clad to zeeyou again. You did got home guite zave?"
"Eh? Oh yes. But that's ever so long ago."
"Zo? Ach! I haf been zo busy as neffer vas. Now you led mein two poysoutspan, eh?"
"Of course," said Emson warmly.--"Show them where the best pasture is,toward the water, Dyke.--Come in, Herr. You look hot and tired."
"Ja, zo. I am sehr hot, and you give me zomeden to drink. I haf zompeaudivul dea in dem vagons. I give you zom to make."
An hour later, with the visitor and his men refreshed, Morgensternsmiled at Dyke, and winked both his eyes. "You know vad I vants?" hesaid.
"Yes; your pipe."
"Ja, I wand mein bibe. You gom mit me do god mein bibe und mein dobaccodin; und den I light oop, und shmoke und dalk do you, und you go allround, und zhow me den ostridge-bird varm."
They all went out together, the visitor noticing everything; and layinghis hand upon Emson's shoulder, he said: "You muss god besser, meinvrient. You are nod enough dick--doo tin."
"Oh, I'm mending fast," said Emson hastily, and then they stopped by thewagon, with Morgenstern's eyes twinkling as he turned to Dyke.
"You haf been zo goot," he said; "you make me ead und trinken zo mooch,dat I gannod shoomp indo den vagon. I am zo dick. Good! You shoompin, and get me mein bibe und dobacco din."
Dyke showed him that he could; fetched it out, and after the old man hadfilled, lit up, and begun to form smoke-clouds, he said: "You dake menow do see if mein pullocks and my poys is ead und trink."
"Oh, they're all right," cried Dyke.
"Ja. Bood I always like do zee for meinzelf. Zom beobles ist nod asgoot as you vas, mein vrient. A good draveller ist kind do his beastund his plack poy."
The visitor was soon satisfied, for he was taken round to where TantaSal was smiling at her two guests, who, after making a tremendous meal,had lain down and gone to sleep, while the oxen could be seen at adistance contentedly grazing in a patch of rich grass.
"You haf no lions apout here," said the old man, "to gom und shdeal meingattle?--Ah, vot ist das?" he cried, turning pale as he heard a peculiarnoise from somewhere close at hand. Quigg! "You ged der goon undshoot, or der lion gom und preak von of der oxen's pack."
"It's all right," cried Dyke, laughing. "Come and look here."
The old man looked rather wild and strange, for, as Dyke threw open arough door in the side of one of the sheds, the two lion cubs, nowgrowing fast towards the size of a retriever dog, came bounding out.
"Ach! shdop. Do not led them ead der poor alter pecause he is zo niceund vat. Eh, dey will not hurt me?"
"No!" cried Dyke; "look here: they are as tame and playful as kittens."
Dyke proved it by dropping on his knees and rolling the clumsy, heavycubs over, letting them charge him and roll him over in turn.
"Ach! id is vonterful," said the old man, wiping the perspiration fromhis face. "I did tought dey vas go to eat den alt man. You make demdame like dot mit dem jambok."
"With
a whip? No," cried Dyke; "with kindness. Look here: pat them andpull their ears. They never try to bite. You should see them playabout with the dog."
"Boor liddle vellows den," said the old man, putting out his handnervously. "Ach, no; id is doo bat, you liddle lion. Vot you mean pyschmell me all over? I am nod for you do ead."
Dyke laughed, for the cubs turned away and sneezed. They did notapprove of the tobacco.
"There, come along," he cried; and the cubs bounded to him. "I'll shutthem up for fear they should frighten your oxen."
"Das is goot," said the old man with a sigh of satisfaction, as he sawthe door closed upon the two great playful cats. "Bood you zhall mind,or zom day I zhall gom ant zee you, but vind you are not ad home, vordie young lion haf grow pig und ead you all oop."
"Yes," said Emson; "we shall have to get rid of them before very long.They may grow dangerous some day."
"Ach! I dell you vot, mein vrient Emzon, I puy dose lion ov you, or youled me shell dem, to go do Angland or do Sharmany."
"Do you think you could?"
"Do I dink I good? Ja, I do drade in effery dings. I gom now to puyiffory und vedders. You shell me all you vedders, und I gif you goodbrice."
"I have a very poor lot, Morgenstern, but I'll sell them to you. Dykeand I have done very badly."
"Zo? Bood you will zell do me. I zaid do myself I vould go und zeemein vrient Emzon und den bube. He zay I am honest man.--You droostme?"
"Of course," said Emson frankly. "I know you for what you are,Morgenstern."
The old man lowered his pipe, and held out his fat hand.
"I dank you, Herr Emzon," he said, shaking his host's hand warmly. "Idis goot do veel dot von has a vrient oud here in der desert land. BoodI am gonzern apout you, mein vrient. You haf peen very pad. You dolook sehr krank; unt you zay you haf tone padly. I am moch gonzern."
"We've been very unlucky," said Emson, as the old man seated himselfupon a block of granite, close to one of the ostrich-pens, while an oldcock bird reached over and began inspecting his straw-hat.
"Zo I am zorry. Bood vy do you not dry somedings else? Hund vor skinsor vor iffory? I puy dem all. Und not dry do keep den ostridge-bird indem gage, bood go und zhoot him, und zell die vedders do me. Or der isanodder dings. Hi! You bube: did you dell den bruders apout dendiamonts?"
"Oh yes, I told him," said Dyke sadly; "but he has been so ill. Ithought once he was going to die."
"Zo! Den tunder! what vor you no gom und vetch me und mine old vomans?Die frau gom und vrighten avay das vevers. She is vonterful old vomans.She make you like to be ill."
"I was all alone, and couldn't leave him," said Dyke. "I was afraid hewould die if I did."
"Ja, zo. You vas quite right, mein young vrient Van Dyke. You are agoot poy, unt I loaf you. Zhake mein hant."
The process was gone through, Dyke shrinking a little for fear he wouldbe kissed.
"Und zo die pirts do nod get on?" said Morgenstern after a pause, duringwhich he sat smoking.
"No, in spite of all our care," said Emson.
"Ach! vot ist das?" cried the old man, looking sharply round, as his hatwas snatched off by the long-necked bird which had been inspecting it."You vill gif dot pack to me, shdupit. Id ist nod goot do eat, und I amsure id vould not vid your shdupid liddle het.--Dank you, bube," hecontinued, as Duke rescued and returned the hat. "Eh? you dink it goot.Vell, it vas a goot hat; bud you go avay und schvallow shdones, undmake vedders for me to puy. Ach! dey are vonny pirts, Van Dyke. Und zodey all go die?"
"We lost a great many through the Kaffir boy we had," said Dyke, as theywalked slowly back to the house.
"Zo? He did not give them do eat?"
"We saw that the birds had enough to eat," said Dyke; "but he used toknock their heads with a stone."
"Zo? Dot vas nod goot. Shdones are goot for die pirts to schvallow,bud nod for outside den het. I dink, mein younger vrient, I should hafknog dot shentleman's het outside mit a shdone, und zay do him, `You goavay, und neffer gom here again, or I zhall bepper your black shkin midsmall shot.'"
"That's what Dyke did do," said Emson, smiling.
"Zo? Ach! he is a vine poy."
"Hah!" sighed the old man as he sank upon a stool in the house. "Now Izhall shmoke mein bibe, und den go do mein wagon und haf a big longschleep, vor I am dire."
He refilled his pipe, and smoked in silence for a few minutes, and thensaid thoughtfully:
"Emzon, mein vrient, I am zorry to zee you veak und krank, und I amzorry do zee your varm, und I should not be a goot vrient if I did notdell you die truth."
"Of course not," said Emson; and Dyke listened.
"All dese has been a misdake. You dake goot advice, mein vrient. Youled die long-legged pirts roon vere dey like, und you go ant look fordiamonts."
Emson shook his head.
"No," he said, "I am no diamond hunter. It would not be fair for mybrother, either. I have made up my mind what to do. I am weak and ill,and I shall clear off and go back home."
"Nein, nein. Dot is pecause you are krank. Bube, you make your bruderquite vell und dry again. Dot is der vay. You shall nod go home toyour alt beobles und say, `Ve are gom pack like die pad shillings. Nogoot ad all.'"
"That's what I say," cried Dyke eagerly. "I want to hunt for diamonds,and collect feathers, and skins, and ivory."
"Goot! Und gom und shell all to alt Oom Morgenstern."
"Yes," cried Dyke. "I say: help me to make my brother think as I do."
"Of goorse I will, bube; I know," said the old man, winking his eyes."It ist pecause he has got das vevers in his pones; bud I haf in meinwagon zix boddles of vizzick to vrighten avay all dot. I zhall give himall die boddles, und I shall bud indo each zom quinines. Id ist pordwein, und he vill dake two glass, effery day, und fery zoon he villlaugh ad dem vevers und zay: `Hi! Van Dyke, get on your horse and gomit me to get iffory, und vedders, und skins, und diamonts, till we hafgot a load, und den we vill go und shell dem to alt Oom Morgenstern--dodem alt ooncle, as you gall him.'--Vot haf you got dere, bube?"
"Two or three of the ostrich skulls that I found with the marks made inthem by the Kaffir with a stone," said Dyke, who had just been andopened the door of his case of curiosities.
"Zo!" said the old man. "Ah, und negs time you see dot Kaffir poy youmake zome blace like dot upon der dop of his het. Und vot else have youthere?--any dings to zell me?"
"Oh no; only a few curiosities I picked up. Look! I took these all outof the gizzard of an old cock ostrich we were obliged to kill, becausehe broke his leg."
Dyke handed a rough little wooden bowl to the old man.
"Ach! Mein cracious!" he cried.
"You wouldn't have thought it. And here's a great piece of rusty ironthat he had swallowed too; I picked it out when I had lost a knife, andthought he had swallowed it."
"Mein cracious!" cried the old man again, and he let his pipe fall andbreak on the rough table.
Dyke laughed as the visitor turned over the stones and the bit of rustyiron.
"One would have thought it would kill them to swallow things like that,but they're rare birds, Herr Morgenstern; they'll try and swallowanything, even straw-hats."
"Mein cracious, yes!" cried the old man again. "Und so, bube, you didvind all dose--dose dings in dem gizzard ov dot pirt?"
"Yes, all of them. I've got another bowlful that I picked up myself.There are a good many about here."
"You vill let me loog ad dem, mein younger vrient?"
"Of course," said Dyke, and he fetched from the case another roughlittle bowl that he had obtained from one of the Kaffirs.
There were about ten times as many of the stones, and with them piecesof quartz, shining with metallic traces, and some curious seeds.
Morgenstern turned them over again and again, and glanced at Emson, wholooked low-spirited and dejected.
"Ach, zo! Mein cracious!" cried the old man; then, with his voicetrembling: "Und zo
there are blendy of dose shdones apout here?"
"Yes; I've often seen the ostriches pick them up and swallow them. Isuppose it's because they are bright."
"Yes, I suppose it ist pecause they are zo bright," said the old man,pouring out a handful of the stones into his hand, and reverentlypouring them back into the rough wooden bowl. Then rising, he shookhands silently with Dyke.
"Going to bed?"
"No, mein younger vrient, nod yed. I haf somedings to zay to yourbruder," and turning to Emson, who rose to say good-night to him, hetook both his hands in his own, and pumped them up and down.
"Yoseph Emzon," he said, in a deeply moved voice, "I like you when youvirst game into dese barts, und I zay dot man is a shentleman; I loafhim, unt den bube, his bruder. Now I gom here und vind you ill, myheart ist zore. I remember, doo, you zay I vas honest man, ant I dankden Lord I am, und dot I feel dot I am, und can say do you, mein youngvrient, zom beobles who know what I know now would sheat und rob you,but I vould not. I vont zom days to die, und go ver der Lord vill say,`Vell done, goot und vaithful zervant.' Yoseph Emzon, I am honest man,und I zay do you, all your droubles are over. You haf been zick, butyou vill zoon be quide vell und shdrong, vor you vill not haf das soreheart, und de droubles which make do hair drop out of your het."
"Thank you, Morgenstern. I hope I shall soon be well enough to go,"said Emson, sadly.
"Bood you vill not go, mein vrient," cried the old man. "You vill notleave here--mein cracious, no! You vill shdop und get all die ostridgeyou gan, und shend dem out effery day to big oop zom shdones, und denyou vill dig oop der earth vor die pirts to vind more shdones, und whendey haf shvallowed all dey gan, you und der bube here vill kill dem, undempty die gizzards into die powls of water to vash dem."
"No, no, no: what nonsense!" cried Emson, while Dyke suddenly dashed tothe table, seized one bowl, looked at its contents, and banged them downagain.
"Hurray!" he yelled. "Oh! Herr Morgenstern, is it real?" For like alight shot from one of the crystals, he saw the truth.
"Nonsense, Yoseph Emzon?" cried the old man. "Id is drue wisdom, asgoot as der great Zolomon's. Yoseph Emzon, I gongradulade you. You hafhad a hart shdruggle, but it is ofer now. Die ostridge pirts haf madeyou a ferry rich man, und I know dot it is right, for you vill always dogoot."
"But--but--do I understand? Are those--those--"
"Yes, Joe," roared Dyke, springing at his brother. "There is no moreroom for despair now, old chap, for you are rich; and to think we neverthought of it being so when you were so unhappy, and--and--Oh, I can'tspeak now. I don't care for them--only for the good they'll do to you,for they're diamonds, Joe, and there's plenty more diamonds, and allyour own."
"Yes, und pig vons, too," said the old trader, with a look of triumph;"und now I must haf somedings to trink. I haf dalk so much, I veel as Ishall shoke. Here, bube, you go und shoomp indo dem vagon, und bringone of die plack poddles out of mein box py vere I shleep. Id is derbruder's vizzick, bud ve vill trink a trop to-night do gongradulade him,und you dwo shall trink do der health of dis honesd alt manns."
The bottle of port was fetched, a portion carefully medicated withquinine, and Morgenstern handed it to the invalid.
"Mein vrient," he said, "das is wein dot maketh glad das heart of man.I trink do your goot health."
A few minutes later the old trader said softly:
"I go now to say mein brayer und get mein schleep. Goot-night, meinvrients, und Gott pless you both."
It was about an hour later, when the faint yelping of the jackals washeard in the distance, that Emson said softly:
"Asleep, young un?"
"No, Joe; I can't get off nohow. I say, am I dreaming, or is all thistrue?"
"It is true, lad, quite true; and I suppose that you and I are going tobe rich men."
"Rich man and boy, Joe. I say: are you pleased?"
"More thankful than pleased, Dyke, for now, when we like, we can startfor home."
"Without feeling shamefaced and beaten, eh, Joe? Then I _am_ glad. Ididn't quite know before, but I do know now; and we can make the oldpeople at home happy, too, Joe."
"As far as money can make them so, little un."
"Hullo!" cried Dyke; "you are a bit happy after all, Joe."
"What makes you say that?"
"You called me `little un' just in your old way, and I can feel that,with all the worry and disappointment gone now, you'll be able to getwell."
Emson was silent for a few minutes, and then he said softly:
"Yes: I feel as if I can get better now; not that I care for the richesfor riches' sake, Dyke, but because--Are you listening, little un?"
Dyke was fast asleep, and a few minutes later Emson was sleeping too,and dreaming of faces at home in the old country welcoming him back, notfor the sake of the wealth he brought, but because he was once more ahale, strong man.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.
THE CHANGE THAT CAME.
"It's to-morrow morning, little un."
Dyke did not stir, but he seemed to hear the words.
"Do you hear, little un? Tumble up and bustle. Let's have acomfortable meal when he joins us. Do you hear, sir? Are you going tosleep all day?"
Certainly he was not, for Dyke had sprung up, and was staring across theplace at where, half-turned from him, Emson lay gazing at the goldeneast, where the sun was about to rise.
"Little un: are you going to get up?"
Dyke sprang from his bed, darted to his brother, caught him by theshoulder and pulled him round so as to look him in the face.
"What's the matter, sleepy head?" said Emson, smiling.
"Why, it's himself again," cried Dyke excitedly. "Oh Joe, old man, youare better and no mistake. I haven't heard you speak like that since Iwent to old Morgenstern's.--Oh!"
"What is it?" cried Emson.
"I'm not quite awake yet. Yes I am, but I forgot that he was here, andabout the diamonds; and--Joe, Joe, old chap, I don't believe preciousstones ever did so much good before."
"Don't talk about them, boy," said Emson, holding his brother's handtightly in his. "But I do seem as if a terrible load had been taken offbody and brain. I feel this morning that I shall see home again; and Ihave talked about going, but never felt that I should see it till now."
"Then hooray for being rich! But, I say!"
"What?"
"Suppose any one one should come and rob us now."
Emson laughed aloud.
"The first trouble that attends wealth, little un. There, we've bornesorrow and disappointment like men."
"Man and boy, Joe."
"Like men, Dyke, for you have been a better man than I. Now then, we'llbear prosperity, please God, as patiently and well."
"Why, of course," cried Dyke; "but what did you do with the jolly oldstones?"
"Put them in your bowl, and then in the case. Now see that thebreakfast is got ready. I'm far better, but I feel too weak to help."
"Ah, but you won't long, if you go on like this," cried Dyke, dressinghurriedly, and beginning to have his morning wash in the bucket. "I sayJoe, though, let's have some luxuries, now, as soon as we can. What doyou say to a wash-hand basin?"
"Oh yes, we'll have that."
"And a sponge? Here, I say: I wonder whether old Morningstar has gotany sponges: we'll buy one. New boots, too: mine are getting likePaddy's ride in the sedan-chair; I'm on the ground."
"All in good time, little un; all in good time: the first thing now isbreakfast for our good old visitor."
"Ah, we'll have another spoonful of coffee in the pot this morning,Joe."
The old trader met them at breakfast and smiled as he shook hands.
"Ach ten!" he cried, "but you haf geschlafen wohl, mein vrient. Derbeace of mind is a goot ding. You are besser. You need not speak, foryour eyes are delling me all der dime what dey dink, bube."
"I'm sure he's better," said Dyke eagerly.
"Und he vill zoon be guite hims
elfs again. I zee you half been do meinoxen, Van Dyke."
"Oh yes, I had a look at them; they were feeding well."
"Ja; die poys dell me zo. Now I go do ask you do let me shday dilldo-morrow, und den die peasts vill pe rested, und I go on again."
"Don't hurry, Herr Morgenstern," said Emson. "You and I must have along talk about--about--"
"Die shdones? Nein, mein good vrient, you go do zay you must share zommid me, but I zhall dake none. Look at me: I am zeventy jahrs alt, undI have blenty do leave my old vomans ven I die, zo should I dake whatvill do you zo much good?"
"But we owe everything to you."
"Nein. It ist not zo. You have work hart, und you have got your gootdimes ad last. You keep vot you haf found. I zhall dake noding booddie hant of mein vrients."
"Oh, but you ought to have a good share, Herr Morgenstern," cried Dyke.
"Ach ten! what for you go shpeak like dot, you bube. You wand to makeme gross, und get in a big passion. Tunder! No, I vill dot dake vonshingle shdone. You shpeak again, I go away in a gross anger. Aha! yousee, mein vrient Yoseph, I zoon zed die dot imbudend bube, who go toshpoil my breakfass. I do not wand my breakfass shpoil. Youoondershtan. You say diamont again, I gall my poys, und inspan und goaway."
He frowned, as if he meant all he said, went on eating fiercely for afew moments, and then with his mouth full:
"I have blenty," he cried, "und I am glad you have blendy, doo. Now,von vort, von leedle vort, und I haf done. You dake a long shdockingund pud die shdones in, and den you vind all you gan. You make mooch asyou gan before die beoble gom. It is got to be know dot dere are blentydiamonts in der veldt, und tousands und tousands gom to vind. Vell, youare virst; you pick oop all you gan pefore dey gom, und nopody know, foryou shoot oop your mouth and hold your dongue. Wise man don't cry `Lookhere!' when he vind. He go und vind again, eh? Dot is all, und I haveenshoy der bess breakfass I effer vas haf."
"But, really, Morgenstern."
"Oof! I am going to get in soch a big passion!" roared the old manfuriously. "I gom here und vind you all down in die doomps. I gif youvizzick do make you shdrong, und I dell you you are ridge mans; und nowyou vill not led me haf any beace. I haf not mooch hair left upon meinhet: do you vant me to dear it all oud; zo as mein old vomans zhall nodknow me when I go pack?"
"No, no, no; but--"
"Nod anoder vort. I am going to shmoke mein bibe.--Ah, you bube, VanDyke, you laugh pecause I preak him last night! You dink I haf nod godanoder? Ha, ha! I haf god zigs, und one made of wood zo as he gannodpreak.--Now, mein tear vrient Yoseph Emzon, led me rest und enshoymyself.--You bube, go und dell dot plack vomans do gook me a goottinner. I zhall go und shmoke mein bibe und shdudy close long,shdupid-looking pirts, und you gan both gom und dalk do me."
Old Morgenstern had his own way, sitting about in different parts of thefarm where there were suitable resting-places, and longest in the chasmof the granite by the water spring in the kopje.
"So dis vas a vavoride blace of yours, eh, bube?" he said, as he sat andsmoked in the shade.
"Yes; it is so nice, and moist, and cool."
"Ja, zo. You are nod a shtupid poy at all. Bood look here, dot vos agoot tinner: und I enshoy him mooch pecause I shall nod ged anoder dillI go pack to mein old vomans. Now I do nod dink you and der pig brudervill shdop ferry long at Kopfontein. You will go pack to Angleland."
"Oh yes, some day, of course," said Dyke.
"Ja, zo. When you haf vound blenty of shdones. When you go pack, youvill nod dake dot voman?"
"Oh no! Poor old Tanta Sal; we shall be sorry to leave her behind."
"Den you do nod go to leave her pehind. You shall gom py me to gohome.--Ah, heim! mein vaterland! I zhall neffer go pack to her, bube: Iam doo alt und dick. I shall go vrom here do der great vaterland--doHimmel, I hope. Bood you shall bring Tanta Sal to alt Oom Morgenstern.My alt vomans shall pe fery goot to her, und she shall gook tinners, undhelp. Bood she vill haf to vear more glothes. Mein alt voman vill nodled her go apout like dot."
The next morning that plan regarding Tanta Sal's future was ratified,subject to the woman's agreement, and Emson thought that as they wouldgo very slowly, he might be able to sit upon his horse, and ride withold Morgenstern for a few miles on his long round.
The old man beamed with satisfaction, and Emson and Dyke mounted, andwalked their horses, one on each side of the wagon-box, where the oldfellow sat holding his big whip.
They went to the first water, where the oxen were refreshed, a good sixmiles from Kopfontein, and then departed, the old man blessing them bothin patriarchal manner, ending by kissing Dyke on each cheek.
"Dill we meed again, mein sohn," he said, and the great team of oxenslowly moved away, guided by the two Kaffir boys.
Emson and Dyke sat watching the wagon for some time, but the old man didnot look back, and as Dyke sat gazing, he said to himself:
"I suppose it is the German custom. It seems queer to me, but I don'tthink I minded it so much just then."
"What are you thinking about, little un?" said Emson huskily.
"That old Morgenstern must be a very good old man. I wish he wouldn'tkiss me, all the same, and make me laugh at his ways."
"It is only at his words and looks, Dyke. God bless him! We neither ofus smile at him in our hearts."
The sun was setting as they walked their horses up toward theshabby-looking corrugated iron buildings; but now, in the evening light,everything seemed glorified, and they drew rein to look around, neitherspeaking for some time.
It was Dyke who broke the silence.
"You are tired out and done up, Joe," he said. "Let's get in, so thatyou can have some tea, and lie down and rest."
Emson started from his reverie, and there was a bright light in hiseyes, a smile upon his lip, which made Dyke's heart leap with pleasure,while, when he spoke, his words sounded almost as they did of old.
"Tired, little un," he said, "and so stiff that you'll have to help meoff the horse; but it is the good, honest weariness that makes rest oneof the greatest pleasures of life. Look here, old chap, I feel as if Iam going to be a man again."
He held out his hand, which Dyke caught and gripped without a word,listening as his brother went on.
"We've found wealth, little un, and I suppose that is good, but it seemsto me like nothing compared to health and strength. One wants to havebeen pulled down very low to know what he is worth."
Dyke said nothing, but sat looking round him still at the wide veldt,and skies one scene of glory, as the sun illumined the great granitekopje, and seemed to crown it with rays of gold.
"Joe, old chap," he said at last, "I used to sit over there and sulk,and hate the hot old place and everything here, but--I don't think Ishall like to leave it after all."
"The time for leaving has not come yet, boy," said Emson quietly. "Weshall see. At present it is home."
It was three years later when they rode away, with their wagon lightlyladen with the curiosities they wished to take back. The stones theyhad collected were safely there before, sent home from time to time.
For old Morgenstern had prophesied correctly. The news had spread fastenough, and by degrees the country was overrun, and a busy city sprangup not many miles away. They saw it with sorrow, certainly not fromsordid motives--for within three months of the night when the old manvisited Kopfontein, Dyke and his brother had picked up here and thereall they cared to seek--but from a liking for the quiet life and theirhome on the veldt.
But as it grew more and more changed, the time seemed to draw nearer forsaying good-bye to the little farm, where, from old associations, theystill bred ostriches, and with far better fortune, leading a simplelife, tended by Tanta Sal and a Kaffir whom they found that they couldtrust.
At last the time came.
"Home, little un?" said Emson laconically.
"Yes: Old England now," said the great strapping fellow six feet high."Everything has changed, and
I don't like the people who come alwayshanging about."
So they rode away one day, with Duke and the Kaffir at the head of theteam, and Tanta Sal seated in the wagon-box behind, smiling and happy atthe thought of the change, and giving the two young lions in their cagea scrap from time to time.
The homeward-bound pilgrims reached old Morgenstern's farm, where theywere warmly welcomed, Tanta Sal arriving just at the right time.
"Vor you see we are gedding ferry old beobles now, mein sohn," saidMorgenstern; "und as I am a ridge man, I do not like to zee mein oldvomans vork zo hart.--Aha! und zo yo dake die gubs mit you?"
"Yes," said Dyke, "we are going to try and get them to England as apresent for the Zoo."
"Zo!" said the old man.
Tanta Sal smiled contentedly when they rode off, a week later. She hadno compunction about staying, while the Kaffir man was to come back withthe empty wagon and team when the pilgrims reached the big town, fromwhence travelling was easy to the Cape.
And as the brothers mounted to go, Emson said:
"This is cutting the last string, little un?"
The stalwart "little un" nodded his head gravely.
"Yes, old chap," he said, "but the Kopfontein of the past is gone. Itonly lives in one's memory now."
They turned to look back--their wagon slowly crawling on in front, withthe patient oxen, fat and sleek, following the black vorloper--homeward-bound; and as they sat in their saddles they could see the oldGerman standing by the place with his wife, waving their hands, and Dykealmost fancied he could hear the old man saying, as he had said atparting:
"You are young und shdrong, und you haf die vorlt pefore you. Mein altvomans und I are goming nearly do der endt. I do not zay dry und dogoot mit vot you dake avay, vor I know you vill. Vonce more, meinsohns--goot-pye."
Just then Duke gave a sharp bark, as if to say, "Come on!"
"Right, old dog," cried Dyke. "Now, then, for home!"
THE END.
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