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Read Ebook: L'Histoire merveilleuse de Robert le Diable remise en lumière pour édifier les petits et distraire les autres by Sandre Thierry
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Ebook has 151 lines and 5416 words, and 4 pages
"Some one's coming!"
We looked up, and there, far in the distance, I saw a black figure striding along under a great, broad matting-hat.
"Why, it looks like that great Kaffir, father," I said.
"Nonsense, boy," he replied; "the Kaffirs all look alike at a distance."
"But it is, father," I cried excitedly. "Look; he's waving his big hat because he sees us." I waved mine in answer; and directly after he began to run, coming up laughing merrily, and ending by throwing down three assagais and the bundle he carried, as he cried:
"Come back, boss."
We gave him something to eat, and the next minute he was lifting and carrying stones, working like a slave; and at night he told me in his way that he was going to stop along with old boss and young boss and little boss and old gal, and never go away no more.
OUR UGLY VISITOR.
The black fellow's arrival at such a time was most welcome; but my father put no faith in his declaration.
"They're all alike, Val," he said. "He's a quick worker, and as willing and good-tempered as a man can be; but he'll only stay with us till he has earned wages enough to buy himself some bright-coloured blankets and handkerchiefs, and then he'll be off back to his tribe."
"Think so, father?" I said. "He seems to like us all here. He says it's better than being with the Boers. He always says he means to stay."
"He does mean it, of course," said my father; "but these black fellows are like big children, and are easily led away by some new attraction. We shall wake up some morning and find him gone."
But seven years glided away, during which apprenticeshiplike time Joeboy, as we called him--for he would not be content with Joe when he had heard the "boy" after it once or twice, "Joeboy" quite taking his fancy--worked for us constantly, and became the most useful of fellows upon our farm, ready to do anything and do it well, as his strength became tempered with education. In fact, it grew to be a favourite saying with my father, "I don't know what we should have done without Joeboy."
One of the first persons I saw that morning, when I trotted towards the house after being called by my brother, was the great black hurrying out to meet us; and as we got closer it was to see his face puckered up and his eyes flashing, as he said to me hoarsely:
"Won't go, Boss Val; won't go. You tell the Boss I've run up into the hills. Won't go."
"Here, what do you mean?" I said.
"Boss Boers come to fetch up go and fight. Won't go."
"Nonsense," I said. "I dare say they've only come to buy bullocks."
"No," said the black, shaking his head fiercely. "Come to fetch Joeboy."
"Here, don't run away."
"On'y go up in kopje," he said. "Hide dar."
He rushed away, and I was sure I knew where he would hide himself. Then I walked on with my brother, to find my father and Aunt Jenny by the door.
"What's it all about, father?" I asked.
"I don't know yet, my boy; but we soon shall. There's about a score of the Boers, well mounted and armed. Yonder they are, coming at a walk. There were only twelve; but another party have caught up to them, and maybe there are more."
"Joeboy has run off in a fright," I said. "He thinks they've come to fetch him."
"Oh no; it isn't that, my boy," said my father. "I fear it's something worse."
"What?" I said wonderingly.
MY FIRST REAL TROUBLE.
Before my father could reply a body of horsemen cantered up, every man well mounted, rifle in hand, and carrying a cross-belt over his left shoulder fitted with cartridges, bandolier fashion. Their leader, a big, heavily-bearded, fierce-looking fellow, dropped from his saddle, threw the rein to one of his companions, and then swaggered up to us, scanning us with his eyes half-closed, and with a haughty, contemptuous expression in his countenance.
"Ye're John Moray, I suppose?" he said, turning to my father, after looking me up and down in a way I, a hot-blooded and independent lad of eighteen, did not at all like.
"Yes," said my father quietly, "I'm John Moray. Do you want some refreshment for your men and horses?"
"Yes, of course," said our visitor; and I wondered why such a big-bearded, broad-shouldered fellow should speak in so high-pitched a tone. That he was Irish he proved directly; but that excited no surprise, for we were accustomed to offer hospitality to men of various nationalities from time to time--Scots, Finns, Germans, Swedes, and Norwegians--trekking up-country in search of a place to settle on.
"Will you dismount and tie up, then?" said my father; "and we'll see what we can do.--Val, my lad, you will see to the horses having a feed?"
"Yes, father," was on my lips, when the Irish leader turned upon me sharply with:
"Oh, ye're Val--are ye?"
"Yes," I said, rather sharply, for the man's aggressive manner nettled me; "my name is Valentine."
"And is it, now?" he said, with a mocking laugh. "Ye're a penny plain and tuppence coloured, I suppose? Coloured, bedad! Look at his face!"
"I don't see the joke," I said sharply.
"Don't ye, now? Then ye soon will, my fine chap. Let's see, now; how old are ye?"
I made no reply, and my father replied gravely:
"My son is eighteen."
"Is he, now? And ye're forty, I suppose?"
"I am sorry to say I am over fifty," replied my father, as I stood chafing at the man's insolent, bullying tone.
"Then ye don't look it, sor. But there, we'll leave ye alone for a bit. I dare say we can do without ye this time, and take the bhoy."
"What for--where?" said my father quickly.
"What for--where?" cried the man. "For the commando, of course."
"The commando?" said my father, while I felt staggered, only half-grasping the import of his words.
"Yes, sor, the commando. D'ye suppose ye are to have the protection of the State, and do nothing again' your counthry's inimies? If ye do ye're greatly mistaken. Every man must take his turn to difind the counthry, and ye may feel preciously contented that ye don't have to join yerself."
"But I have heard of no rising," said my father, looking at me anxiously. "The blacks all about here are peaceable and friendly."
"Not the blackest blacks, sor," said the man, drawing himself up and raising one hand and his voice in an oratorical way; "the blacks I mane are white-skinned, but black in the heart through and through; the blacks who are the dispisers of progress, the foes of freedom, the inimies of the counthry, sor--the despicable, insolent Saxons."
"Do you mean the English?" said my father coolly.
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