Harley Greenoak's Charge Part 27

d.i.c.k's face cleared. Here was a broad path out. He was unaware, too, of the pressures of the foot under the table exchanged by the two ladies as the richness of the joke unfolded itself. He only knew, with inexpressible relief, that the situation was saved.

"Then I think I will change it," he answered, striving to quell the eagerness in his tone. "Besides, it'll be such a joke on good old Greenoak when he gets back, to find I've flown."

"Where is Mr Greenoak now?" asked Hazel. "Isn't he here?"

"No. He's away on some secret service."

"Something to help other people, I suppose," rejoined the girl. "He lives for that."

There was just a little dimming of d.i.c.k Selmes' golden vista. Was Hazel going to recommence booming Greenoak? She had never seemed to tire of that at Haakdoornfontein. Then he felt thoroughly ashamed of himself.

"I should think he did live for that," declared d.i.c.k, heartily. "He saved my life twice since we crossed the Kei. Do you know, I was twice captured by the Kafirs, and the rum part of it was, it came off before the actual war began; but they'd have done for me all the same, as sure as I sit here--and that in a precious unpleasant manner--if it hadn't been for Greenoak. But it's something of a yarn, and must keep till there's time to tell it. Shall I go and see after your inspanning, Mrs Waybridge?"

"No. Go and see after your own kit, that'll save time. Only, don't make it bigger than you can help, because the cart isn't a Cobb and Co.

coach."

"Will a flannel s.h.i.+rt and a cartridge sh.e.l.l be overweight?" said d.i.c.k, slily.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

A MISSING LINK.

It is safe to say that no more light-hearted unit among Her Majesty's subjects existed than d.i.c.k Selmes as he rode out that day to the Waybridges' farm.

Here he was, suddenly and unexpectedly called upon to undergo a wholly delightful sojourn once more beneath the same roof with this girl who had held his thoughts during the past three months. And now he was resolved to bring things to a head, and somehow he thought he had no reason to despair of doing so. Had he been near enough to catch what was working in the mind of one of the occupants of the Cape cart--which he was not, for his horse, fresh and "beany" from stable confinement and diet, would not be held in to the more sober, jog-trot pace of a vehicle--he might have thought so still more.

In her first glance at him Hazel had decided that, whatever it was that she had found wanting in him before, had now been supplied as though it were the missing link of a chain. The experiences he had been through since their last meeting had hardened and strengthened d.i.c.k Selmes in every way. He had taken part in more than one battle, and had undergone perils such as had fallen to the lot of few--as we know--and such experience had left its mark. He had learned self-reliance in a sharp school, but he had learned it. There was a straight decisive look in his clear eyes which had not been there before, a stamp, too, of it in his features, and now Hazel came to the conclusion that d.i.c.k Selmes was the handsomest man she had ever seen, or would ever be likely to see.

Even now, how well he looked on horseback. His steed, the same one which had carried him through his express-riding experience, just now was giving ample opportunity for a display of horsemans.h.i.+p; and, watching both from the cart, Hazel realised that small Jacky was but voicing her own verdict in rough and ready fas.h.i.+on when he exclaimed--

"Ma, but Mr Selmes is a fine chap, and, can't he just ride!"

"And swim too, eh, Jacky?" was the maternal reply, given significantly.

"_Ja_. Rather!"

It was sunset when they reached the farm; whose owner they could see down at the sheep kraals some little way off, apparently engaged in counting in, and at this they would not disturb him. A Kafir stable hand came up to take the horses.

"Come in, Mr Selmes. My husband will be up directly, when he's done counting. He and Magwelo will do the outspanning."

"Oh, but I can give a hand so long, Mrs Waybridge. Why--if that isn't Elsie."

"Ay, it's Elsie. And how are ye, Mr Selmes?" said the Scotswoman, as d.i.c.k heartily shook hands with her. "Man, but ye'll have seen something, A'm thinking, since ye first took me for Miss Hazel, up at Mr Hesketh's."

"Elsie, that joke's stale," cut in Hazel, quickly. "I don't know either that it was ever much of a joke in any case."

And d.i.c.k felt grateful. He did not want to be reminded of having made an a.s.s of himself--and that before other people. But the Scotswoman turned away, not in the least offended, however. Soon the owner of the place was seen approaching. He was a middle-aged, strongly built man, with a quiet-looking, shrewd face, thickly bearded, and he was rather reticent of speech.

"John," said his wife, "I've brought you some one you've very much wanted to see--Mr Selmes."

"Very much wanted to," echoed the other, heartily. "I should rather think so. How are you, sir--and a thousand welcomes. I need hardly say how glad I am of the opportunity of thanking you in person--"

"No--no, Mr Waybridge. That's a subject we must agree not to mention,"

protested d.i.c.k. "Really--if only to oblige me."

"There are some subjects that can't be dismissed so lightly," was the answer. "You don't meet with cases of heroism so often as all that."

"Oh, Mrs Waybridge, do come to my rescue," laughed d.i.c.k. "Now I'm going to take refuge in helping to outspan. Hallo! There's my little friend, Florrie. How she's grown."

A pretty little girl came half shyly forward. She and Jacky const.i.tuted the Waybridges' surviving family. Waybridge himself had not been present on the occasion of the rescue, his wife and children having been on a visit to Cape Town without him.

This Kaffrarian farm was pleasingly situated; in front and around an undulating roll of mimosa-dotted plains, at the back a line of hills, covered with dark bush. Now, as the sun dropped down to the horizon, these were thrown out all green and gold. At the back of the house was a large fruit garden, fenced in by hedges of quince and pomegranate.

The sheep kraals lay in front, at some little distance.

"I'm afraid you'll find it a bit slow here, Mr Selmes," said Waybridge, as they were seated out on the stoep after supper. "I hear you're a great sportsman, but there's nothing on earth to shoot here."

"Yet all that bush at the back ought to show something," said d.i.c.k.

"So it ought, but it doesn't. There are a sight too many Kafirs--and dogs. They won't leave a hoof anywhere within reach. Clear everything."

"That's very nearly what Mr Selmes did at Haakdoorn," said Hazel, mischievously.

"Ah, that was a very paradise of a shoot," answered d.i.c.k, meeting her eyes in the starlight; and she read into the words a meaning beyond what they might on the surface convey, as he intended she should. It was like old times sitting out in the still night with her beside him, he thought. Then the conversation, as it was bound to do, got on to the war, and d.i.c.k, being pressed to do so, told them about his adventures.

These, as a rule, he avoided talking about lest he should be suspected of brag.

"You see," he now concluded, "you wanted to hear about things, but don't imagine for a moment I'm particularly proud of any of those experiences, because honestly I'm not. The more I look back on them, the more convinced I am that I acted the silly a.s.s; especially in running other people into unnecessary risk to get me out. And if it hadn't been for Greenoak, time after time, I never should have been got out."

"What about Gcalekaland now?" said Waybridge.

"Think it's settled?"

"I believe so. The n.i.g.g.e.rs were knocked into a c.o.c.ked hat. But what about your crowd round here? Are they reliable?"

"There is unrest," answered Waybridge. "Yes, decidedly there is unrest.

But if we all followed the example of some of our neighbours by running away into laager, it would be courting the very danger we want to avoid.

Isn't it a fact that the way to draw any animal after you is to run away from it? Of course; and so some of us made a kind of league to stick to our farms."

"Aren't you uneasy, Mrs Waybridge?" said d.i.c.k.

"Not in the least. I don't believe, either, that the Kafirs would do us any harm. We are on very good terms with them, and the old chief, Nteya, who bosses all the Gaikas round here, is a really nice old man, and we are very friendly. At worst we should be sure to get warning to clear."

"These scares occur from time to time," went on Waybridge, "and one of the results is that your servants all leave. When they come back you may rely upon it that the scare is over. Just now I'm badly off for hands. Four cleared out one night, all Sandili's people. But they'll come back. Nteya's people stayed on, and those are the three I have yet."

d.i.c.k Selmes, a lurking anxiety at the back of his mind on account of Hazel, felt rea.s.sured. His host's serene composure on the subject could hardly fail to carry that effect. Then, upon the stillness of the night a far-away, long-drawn sound floated weirdly.

"By Jingo!" he cried, "that reminds me of the war-dance in Vunisa's location that I've just been telling you about. Listen."