Part 43 (1/2)

”The scorpion was on my shoulder, and Mr Claverton s.n.a.t.c.hed it off with his bare hand,” answered Lilian, quickly, in her clear tones.

”Awkwardly enough, too, as the result shows,” rejoined Claverton. ”By the way, has Hicks slain anything? We heard him cannonading away down the kloof like the Siege of Paris.” He said this with the object of changing the topic, and the statement was not strictly historical in every particular.

”Ha, ha!” laughed Mr Brathwaite. ”Hicks banging away, as usual. He never will move without his gun. One thing, though, if he isn't dangerous to beast, he isn't to man either. He's always careful enough.”

”I've sent for the horses,” said Jim, who had just come up. ”Hallo, Claverton! What's the row with your hand?”

Then the story was raked up afresh, and all eyes were turned upon its hero, which he hated, and looked around seeking a means of escape, when, to his intense relief, a diversion occurred, in the shape of Hicks and Allen dragging between them a huge bushbuck ram, which the former had shot.

”Hicks to the fore. Hooray!” cried Armitage. ”How much salt did you lodge on its tail, old man?”

”Go to Bath, Jack. You're not the only fellow in the world who ever shot anything,” retorted Hicks, who was hot and testy. Then there was a general laugh, and at length the jollity was cut short by the inexorable hand of Time. The vehicles were in-spanned, for they must needs depart.

Those who were to ride were busy saddling up, and at length farewells having been exchanged, all started on their respective ways, some riding, some driving. Armitage declared that the last thing he saw of old Garrett was that worthy balancing himself in his trap trying to draw a cork, while his hopeful held the reins; but no one knew whether to believe the statement or not. One thing, however, presumption was all in favour of its veracity, so they gave the old toper the benefit of the doubt--in the wrong direction.

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

”SUNs.h.i.+NE OUTSIDE--ICE AT THE CORE.”

”After all, this is a glorious sort of life!” exclaimed Hicks, striking his hatchet into a thorn-stump and standing upright, in all the elation of his health and strength, to gaze at the sun--now rather more than an hour high--and then at the surrounding _veldt_, all dewy and sparkling.

”It is,” a.s.sented his companion, making a final chop at a thorn-bush which he had cut down. ”Here, Tambusa, lay hold of that 'tack' and bang it up against the others. There. The devil himself would yell if chucked against that hedge now.”

For they were repairing sundry breaches in the fence of the wet-weather kraal.

Tambusa obeyed; but in the act of doing so stumbled, and, trying to save himself, sat right on the most th.o.r.n.y end of the branch he was manipulating.

”I never did see such a n.i.g.g.e.r for blundering,” laughed Claverton, as Tambusa, picking himself up, endeavoured to extract the sharp mimosa spikes which had stuck in his naked carcase. ”Hang it, man; you had the whole district for as far round as you can see to sit down in, and yet you pick out such a seat as that.”

The Kafir grinned dolefully, not much relis.h.i.+ng this keen jest; but he liked its propounder, and so he grinned.

”Yes. It's a glorious life,” continued Hicks, bent on philosophising, apparently. ”One never feels off one's chump. Suits a fellow down to the ground.”

”It does,” acquiesced the other. ”By the way, I hear the Brathwaite girls are going away next week.”

”Eh!--what? No. Who told you that?” cried Hicks, turning sharply.

”Oh! didn't you know? My informant was Ethel herself. I thought you knew.”

Hicks looked ”off his chump” enough now, to use his own expression, and his companion's satirical soul discovered something irresistibly comic in this sudden transition from elation to crestfallenness, which would have amused him vastly, but that the laugh was not entirely on his own side. So he only repeated: ”I made sure you knew.”

”No, I didn't. But, I say, though, that's a blue look out. I don't know how we shall get on without them, it'll be slow as slow can be,”

and then, remembering that his companion might have good reasons for not agreeing with this latter statement, Hicks stopped short, and began blundering out something about ”it making all the difference, you know, having a lot of people in the house--or only a few.”

”Let's knock off,” suggested Claverton. ”We're about done here.

Tambusa, lug along those 'tacks,' we'll bang them up somewhere and go.”

It was a couple of days after the fis.h.i.+ng picnic, and just each a morning. There had been plenty of work of one kind or another to occupy the whole of the time since then; but to-day they would only ride round the place, and give an eye to the stock, picking up, perchance, a stray shot or two on the way.

”Arthur,” said Mr Brathwaite, meeting the two young men on the _stoep_.