The Shadow of the Past Part 16

She laughed, and flicked the reins a little vexedly, and rode on.

Nel kept pace beside the second horse. Matheson, despite his protest, dismounted and walked on the other side.

"Is this your first visit to this district, Mr Matheson?" he asked.

"It is," he answered. "And I believe that in the short time I have been here more thought and experience have been crowded than during any other period of my life--certainly any period of like duration."

The eyes of the two men met in a long steady scrutiny. Nel was the first to withdraw his gaze.

"That is interesting," he replied slowly--"and surprising; so little happens here. But the less that happens the more time there is for thought. In my rondavel I have much leisure for thinking; but staying by Benfontein you are in good company. They are nice people, the Kriges--yes!"

The undoubted distrust with which Nel viewed him was forced anew on Matheson's notice. He realised clearly that it would be necessary to allay this distrust before he could hope to gain his confidence. The man on the other side of the horse was shrewd, and it was not altogether surprising that he should entertain doubts of the Englishman's honesty of purpose. He knew the errand that had brought him there, and formed his judgment in accordance with his knowledge. Matheson's claim that he belonged to a different camp puzzled him considerably. He regarded the speaker as a liar. Men who work evil stealthily are not addicted as a rule to truth.

"We will leave your horse in the shade of this tree," he said. "My boy will see to him until you are ready to start."

He called for the boy, and then led the way inside.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

The rondavel was curious rather than beautiful. It was built entirely on the native principle, save that it had a fireplace and properly constructed chimney. In the centre four uprights of timber supported the roof--young trees which had been felled and barked under Nel's supervision. The roof was of wattle and reed, the thatching of which had been done entirely by native women because in Nel's opinion they understood the work thoroughly. The mud floor, smooth and of a perfect evenness, was subjected regularly to the unsavoury process of smearing-- was.h.i.+ng over the surface with a weak solution of cow-dung. This is less unpleasant than it sounds, and is admittedly the best treatment for mud floors; it prevents crumbling and unevenness of surface. Upon the floor were one or two good skins. A curious curtain of strips of hide attached to the supports divided the hut into separate apartments. Nel held aside this reimpe curtain and disclosed his bed.

"When I go to bed," he explained, "I draw the curtain back; then my sleeping apartment is quite s.p.a.cious."

Behind the rondavel a second and smaller hut had been erected. This served as a kitchen and his boy's quarters; and from this hut presently a Kaffir appeared and spread a cloth on the round table, and brought in the breakfast. They took their seats.

"You would have fared better by my brother's house," Nel observed, helping his guest to porridge with which raw cream was served. "I live simply here. It suits me. There are b.u.t.tered mealies to follow--and biltong, if you care for it. It's quite good eating cut fine--a pocket-knife is best for the purpose. I'll cut you some to eat with bread and b.u.t.ter."

"Thanks," Matheson answered. "I call it excellent fare. For myself I should be satisfied with the porridge and that fine water melon to finish with."

"Yes!" Nel regarded the huge green fruit that furnished the centre of the table. "We grow good melons--a very pleasant and refres.h.i.+ng fruit.

It makes a nice confit, too. My sister-in-law is very clever in that way. It is she who keeps me supplied with meiboss, and other agreeable preserves."

He went into a dissertation on the unsurpa.s.sed excellence of Dutch housewifery, and extolled the Dutchwoman's knowledge in all branches of cookery, and the special preparation of the produce of the country.

Matheson was not particularly interested in the subject; but the speaker and his quaint abode and curious mode of living interested him enormously. He had imagined that all Dutchmen were phlegmatic; slow of speech, slow of thought, heavy in their humour, and violent in temper.

This Dutchman was altogether different from any type he had met.

Instinctively he liked him. He had a feeling that Nel was predisposed towards reciprocating this liking; but the man was cautious. He talked continuously; and while he talked he was quite plainly taking stock of his visitor--thinking him out. He could not place the Englishman, and was frankly puzzled. The Englishman was agreeable, and seemed honest; but an honest man does not undertake a dishonourable mission.

"I expected to see you at the meeting last night," he said presently.

He spoke with some abruptness, and fumbled in his pocket for his knife, which he opened deliberately, keeping his gaze fixed on Matheson's face the while.

"It is the first I have heard of any meeting," Matheson replied. "I suppose Mr Krige attended?"

"Yes. You think it wise to keep away, eh?"

Matheson stared hard at the speaker. The shrewd eyes withdrew their gaze and fixed themselves on the dried buckflesh which was being finely sliced with the sharp blade of the clasp knife. Matheson felt incensed.

"I don't know what you mean," he said. "I wasn't invited to attend.

Why should it seem to you wise that I should keep away?"

Nel went on quietly dicing the biltong.

"When a man sells his country he does not usually attend the auction,"

he said.

Matheson's head went up with a jerk. It was the most astonis.h.i.+ng moment in his life. Here was a man whose hospitality he was partaking of, with whom a minute before he had been in amicable conversation, accusing him of one of the worst crimes in the calendar; and for the life of him he could not tell whether the accusation were just or not. That was the worst of it, the most serious side of the business; he did not know the extent of his responsibility.

He raised his hand, prepared to bring his clenched fist pa.s.sionately down on the table; but his arm dropped to his side, the hand fell open loosely. He sat back in his seat and stared amazedly at the composed face of the man who accused him of a thing so vile, so absolutely unthinkable.

"I think, Mr Nel, you will have to take that back," he said quietly, "or prove your words." And then, losing for a s.p.a.ce the grip he had managed to get on his feelings, he burst out with some vehemence: "d.a.m.n it! What the devil do you mean?"

Nel pushed the plate of biltong towards the middle of the table, pocketed his knife, and sat forward, leaning with his arms on the cloth.

"You resent my words," he said. "Why should you? Are you not the paid messenger of a German secret agent?"

"Holman! ... You mean Holman? Holman is--"

"A German," interrupted Nel coolly. "In the Colony perhaps it suits him to pa.s.s as British. If you had read the letter you delivered to Andreas Krige you would have seen that he signs himself Holmann. That isn't the English way of spelling the name."

"You've read the letter?" Matheson asked quickly.

"No." Nel smiled drily. "I saw only the signature. They do not trust me with the letter--no! When they can they keep me from their meetings.

But last night I attended. I attend to talk common sense. They do not like common sense; they do not listen. When I talk Andreas Krige closes his eyes; when I have finished he opens them again and resumes as though I had not spoken." The Boer became suddenly excited. "It's devil's work you are engaged upon, Mr Matheson. I am not surprised you feel shame to acknowledge your part in it."

Matheson leaned his arms on the table also and brought his face close to the speaker's. With an effort he controlled his temper. He was on the fringe of a discovery; he did not wish to prejudice his chances of learning what was so vitally important that he should know by rousing the other to anger. To learn more of this secret business was all that mattered for the present. In those days the fact that Holman was German was not in itself significant, but it was remarkable that he should conceal his nationality and pa.s.s as British. The whole thing in its lying secrecy wore a very sinister look.

"It seems rather much to ask you to believe, Mr Nel, that I am less well informed than yourself as to the nature of this business of Holman's. He told me it was political; and I gathered that it was some party squabble. I consented to act as the bearer of his letter in part payment of a sum of money I owed him. I also undertook to keep my mouth shut. But in opening it to you I cannot be said to be giving information. You, know more than I do. It would seem I have been a.s.sisting in what is contrary to the interests of the Empire. I would let my hand rot off before I applied knowingly to such work."

Nel shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't care that for the British Empire," he said, snapping his fingers. "It's working against the good of this country that concerns me. Look at this country, prosperous and free and developing rapidly.

South Africa was never more prosperous. The conditions for the white races are favourable to all alike. We in South Africa enjoy as great liberty and freedom as any country; yet men like Krige and Cornelius-- ah! and older and more responsible men whom I could name if I would-- would plunge the country into bloodshed out of a bitter spirit of revenge. They have a sense of personal grievance; they seek to wipe it out with no care nor compunction for the wrong they will do others. We can't get anything through war that we haven't got. It is merely nominal privileges they seek. They want to separate South Africa from the British Empire. Even if they succeeded, what would they gain? Do they imagine they would be allowed to keep so great a prize? ... There is only one sure means of conquest." He smiled, a slow, quiet smile.

"It isn't warfare... Propagation... that is the secret We multiply; and I tell you surely we will people South Africa. Your people come and go, but the Boer lives by the land. South Africa is his Fatherland. I bid them to have patience; but they want to see in this generation the result of the seed which lies in the womb of the future."

"It's rebellion, then, that is hatching?" Matheson said.

The present concerned him much more vitally than the future. The future of South Africa he believed was quite secure; there was little need to worry about that. He reflected for a s.p.a.ce.

"The overthrow of the government... Yes; I begin to understand."

Again he was silent, staring into the Dutchman's flushed, earnest face.

Nel's eyes, alight with patriotic zeal, returned his gaze.

"I would do anything," the Boer said--"anything in the world, to crush this spirit of rebellion--to rid the land of it for ever. There must be an end of racial bitterness. The welfare of the country depends upon the co-operation of Dutch and British. The Boers must learn to crush down personal feeling. The best men have done that in the interests of the Fatherland. What matters it, the flag we prosper under? The country belongs to the people who live in it. It's personal feeling that is at the bottom of this discontent. There is no patriotism in it.

It is not the wrong done them as a people, it's the personal grievance that rankles. The whole spirit of rebellion is fed on personal animus.

These men would injure their country out of a spirit of revenge. There is no sense in it; it is childish."

He paused, and scrutinised Matheson closely for a moment or so.