Part 22 (1/2)
Jess bowed, and Muller turned to John, who had risen from his chair and was standing some two paces away, and addressed him. ”Captain Niel,” he said, ”you and I have had some differences in the past. I hope that the service I am doing you will prove that I, for one, bear no malice. I will go farther. As I told you before, I was to blame in that affair in the inn-yard at Wakkerstroom. Let us shake hands and end what we cannot mend,” and he stepped forward and extended his hand.
Jess turned to see what would happen. She knew the whole story, and hoped he would take the man's hand; next, remembering their position, she hoped that he would.
John turned colour a little, then he drew himself up deliberately and put his hand behind his back.
”I am very sorry, Mr. Muller,” he said, ”but even in our present position I cannot shake hands with you; you will know why.”
Jess saw a flush, bred of the furious pa.s.sion which was his weak point, spread itself over the Boer's face.
”I do _not_ know, Captain Niel. Be so good as to explain.”
”Very well, I will,” said John calmly. ”You tried to a.s.sa.s.sinate me.”
”What do you mean?” thundered Muller.
”What I say. You shot at me twice under pretence of firing at a buck. Look here!”--and he took up his soft black hat, which he still wore--”here is the mark of one of your bullets! I did not know about it then; I do now, and I decline to shake hands with you.”
By this time Muller's fury had got the better of him. ”You shall answer for that, you English liar!” he said, at the same time clapping his hand to his belt, in which his hunting-knife was placed. Thus for a few seconds they stood face to face. John never flinched or moved. There he stood, quiet and strong as some old stubby tree, his plain honest face and watchful eye affording a strange contrast to the beautiful but demoniacal countenance of the great Dutchman. Presently he spoke in measured tones.
”I have proved myself a better man that yourself once, Frank Muller, and if necessary I will again, notwithstanding that knife of yours. But, in the meantime, I wish to remind you that I have a pa.s.s signed by your own General guaranteeing our safety. And now, Mr. Muller,” with a flash of the blue eyes, ”I am ready.” The Dutchman drew the knife, but replaced it in its sheath. For a moment he was minded to end the matter then and there, but suddenly, even in his rage, he remembered that there was a witness.
”A pa.s.s from the General!” he said, forgetting his caution in his fury.
”Much good a pa.s.s from the General is likely to be to you. You are in my power, man! If I choose to close my hand I can crush you. But there--there,” he added, checking himself, ”perhaps I ought to make allowances. You are one of a defeated people, and no doubt are sore, and say what you do not mean. Anyhow, there is an end of it, especially in the presence of a lady. Some day we may be able to settle our trouble like men, Captain Niel; till then, with your permission, we will let it drop.”
”Quite so, Mr. Muller,” said John, ”only you must not ask me to shake hands with you.”
”Very good, Captain Niel; and now, if you will allow me, I will tell the boy to get your horses in; we must be getting on if we are to reach Heidelberg to-night.” And he bowed himself out, feeling that once more his temper had endangered the success of his plans. ”Curse the fellow!”
he said to himself: ”he is what those English call a gentleman. It was brave of him to refuse to take my hand when he is in my power.”
”John,” said Jess, as soon as the door had closed, ”I am afraid of that man. If I had understood that he had anything to do with the pa.s.s I would not have taken it. I thought that the writing was familiar to me.
Oh dear! I wish we had stopped at Pretoria.”
”What can't be cured must be endured,” said John again. ”The only thing to do is to make the best of it, and get on as we can. You will be all right anyhow, but he hates me like poison. I suppose that it is on account of Bessie.”
”Yes, that's it,” said Jess: ”he is, or was, madly in love with Bessie.”
”It is curious to think that a man like that can be in love,” remarked John as he lit his pipe, ”but it only shows what queer mixtures people are. I say, Jess, if this fellow hates me so much, what made him give me the pa.s.s, eh? What's his game?”
Jess shook her head as she answered, ”I don't know, John; I don't like it.”
”I suppose he can't mean to murder me; he did try it on once, you know.”
”Oh no, John,” she answered with a sort of cry, ”not that.”
”Well, I don't know that it would matter much,” he said, with an approach to cheerfulness which was rather a failure. ”It would save one a deal of worry, and only antic.i.p.ate things a bit. But there, I frightened you, and I dare say that, for the present at any rate, he is an honest man, and has no intentions on my person. Look! there is Mouti calling us. I wonder if those brutes have given him anything to eat!
We'll secure the rest of this leg of mutton on chance. At any rate, Mr.
Frank Muller sha'n't starve me to death,” and with a cheerful laugh he left the room.
In a few minutes they were on their road again. As they started Frank Muller came up, took off his hat, and informed them that probably he would join them on the morrow below Heidelberg, in which town they would find every preparation to enable them to spend the night comfortably.