V.

_MAKING FRIENDS._

GENDEREN alone, of all the Boer's household, had found out the truth from little Sannie's sobbing complaints. Dull and heavy as she appeared, there was more in her than Jack imagined. She suspected her brother of teasing the ostrich, but was so frightened at the thought of Sannie's danger that she could not rest. Her first care was to get the boys into the garden. The Black Antelope followed with Jack's untested breakfast—the bowl of milk and the once hot roaster-cake. There was twice as much as he could eat, but Zyl was quite ready to assist him with the overplus. They sat down together on one of the garden seats in the midst of a grove of orange-trees.

Genderen shook down some of their golden fruit to fill the English boy's pockets. Jack took out his precious "Illustrated News" to make room for them, and whilst the important business of the breakfast proceeded, Zyl stretched himself on the grass, absorbed in the delight its many pictures afforded.

When Genderen saw the two boys she had caught fighting had struck up such a sudden friendship, she felt somewhat amazed. Fearing it was too warm to last, she slipped away to execute the second part of her plan as quickly as she could. To feed the young ostrich chicks was Genderen's daily task, therefore she was not at all afraid of Vickel herself. Filling her lap with food, she went into the farm-yard, and calling her own majestic hen with her fluffy brood, began to feed them.

The cries of the young birds soon brought Vickel out of the waggon. Genderen saw her bright eyes peeping over the wall at her feathered kin. Then the Dutch girl showered the corn from her lap, inviting Vickel to come over the wall and share the feast; but the ostrich was shy, and retreated.

"No, she cannot get over the wall," thought the Dutch girl; "and if I can but coax her into the yard, she will be safe out of the children's way, or there will be more mischief between them, for somehow or other this bird is at the bottom of it."

Acting upon this conviction, she did her utmost to tempt the clever bird to follow her, but in vain. At last she set the gate wide open, and leading out the biggest of her chickens, she let them walk before the waggon, trusting that Vickel would join them of her accord. Ostriches have a decided partiality for women and girls, and when Genderen began to call her chicks together, Vic put her head on one side and listened.

The impression was deepened when a few grains of corn were flung at Vickel's feet. She eyed them askance for a while, but as the chicks moved on, she condescended to taste. Having once tasted, and found the breakfast Genderen provided for her chicks was much better than her own, she continued to follow them slowly and at a considerable distance, picking up the grains of corn Genderen was careful to scatter in their rear.

As the girl drew near the gate, the Hottentot came to her assistance. A heap of corn was placed in Vickel's sight to invite her to enter; and when she hovered hesitatingly round the gate of plenty, the cowherd cracked his whip behind her. In she flew with a bound. The gate was gently closed, and Jack's pet was a prisoner. Genderen, very happy in the success of her manœuvre, returned to the house.

Beautiful as the Boer's garden seemed to Jack on that lovely summer morning, he did not care to stay there long. His father had told him he must take care of all the things in the waggon, and he wanted to go back to it. But Zyl, who valued the pictures in the "Illustrated News" almost more than Jack himself, was loath to let them go. His sullen face lit up at the sight of men on horseback with their dogs at their side, and soldiers drawn up in battle array. Tents, too, and Japanese pagodas, all of which he must scrutinize until each picture was made out to his own satisfaction.

Jack's impatience nearly upset the good understanding so recently established between them; but nothing could turn the young Boer from his purpose. He had made up his mind to see all there was to be seen in the beautiful English paper, and he would. To add to Jack's uneasiness, he was sure he heard his ostrich calling; but after his father's charge to take care of the paper, he was afraid to go away without it. He tried to take it out of Zyl's hand, promising to bring it again.

But Zyl, who could not understand Jack's English, only retorted, "Jah! Jah!" and held it fast.

Then Jack ran to the gate, but Zyl was before him. The upper bolt, which was high above Jack's head, was drawn, and the Dutch boy stood laughing. Then he gave Jack a brotherly hug, and led him round the garden.

"Don't go," said Zyl by every action. He put back the little linen tents which were dotted about the beds, and showed him the lovely flowers blooming beneath their grateful shadows.

Oh, what a contrast to Jack's garden at home! The roses here seemed to spring up as easily as thistles, and the tulips from the Dutchman's "father-land" seemed to Jack, with his exceeding love of flowers, like fairy bells. And then the grapes and peaches, shining in their glossy leaves, filled him wonder and admiration. How was it all done? Why could not their garden at home be made like it?

[Illustration: FEEDING THE OSTRICH CHICKS.]

He began to think these rough Boers knew more than he did after all. Perhaps he could find out how they managed it.

There was one particular corner at which Zyl paused with evident pride. It was a perfect square, marked off from the rest of the garden by a row of flowering cactus. In the angle of the wall stood a clumsy, three-cornered stool, which Zyl endeavoured to make Jack understand was his own handiwork. The frame of an old umbrella had been nailed to the wall, and as its silk covering had altogether disappeared, it had been skilfully thatched with grass. Two young creeping-plants were making haste to climb the wall to reach it.

A small orange-tree, which could have seen little more than a single summer, was planted in the very centre of the little square, with a ring of rice-plants round it, brought from an unfrequented dell among the neighbouring rocks. A circular path divided this from the side borders, where Jack observed an abundant crop of seed springing up in the shape of a Dutch "Z."

This was enough for Jack. He guessed once it was Zyl's own garden. How he envied him the possession. But this was a bad feeling, and Jack crushed it in its birth, smothering it with a burning desire to emulate the Dutch boy's skill, and, if possible, surpass it.

"I must have the seat big enough for two," thought Jack, "and father and I could have our supper there."

So the time slid by until Genderen returned, leading Sannie in a clean pinafore, with both her chubby hands filled with sweets, the Dutch child's delight. She held out one to Jack, who had given her the "beauty picture."

As he stooped to take it, he softly parted the curly mop of flaxen hair, and looked ruefully at the darkening bruise it shaded. This reminded him of Vickel.

"I must, I ought to go and look after her," he thought.

Now, Jack could climb like a cat; and as he despaired of making his new friends understand how much he wanted to go back to his father's waggon, he suddenly leaped upon Zyl's seat, and was over the wall in a moment. His astonished companions stared after him with their fingers in their mouths, utterly amazed. They would have said only a Kafir could have done it.

Once outside the wall of Jaarsveldt, Jack ran eagerly to the waggon. The oxen were leisurely ruminating. Everything was right but Vickel. Where was Vickel? A cry of bitter self-reproach burst from his lips. He tried to call her name, but his voice failed him. All the terrible excitement he had undergone seemed to culminate in that moment. A cold shiver ran through him, for this new trouble was of his own making. If he had not left Vickel so long, he would not have lost her.

He was blaming himself too keenly to know what he was doing. He tried to call her, but his voice sounded hoarse, and unlike his own. The echo from the neighbouring rocks repeated his heart-breaking call. He did not know what an echo was, and believed that some one else was calling his bird in the distance. Off he set, as fast as he could go, hoping to overtake the unknown somebody who was tempting his pet away. Once he thought he heard his ostrich screaming behind him. He paused, completely bewildered.

No; it was only Zyl shouting to him to stop. But Jack had had enough of Zyl's company for the present, and would not comply. So the two chased each other over the red sand, nearer and nearer to those sombre mosses of frowning brown which had exercised such a power over Jack's imagination.

The heat was now intense, but there was neither sight nor sound of Vickel. He ran till he could run no further, and had hardly breath enough left to call her name. Then he remembered Genderen's oranges, and sitting down under one of the low karroo bushes, which reminded him of home, he began to eat them. This helped him to recover his voice, and putting both hands to his mouth, he once more shouted, "Vickel," and again the rocks gave back his cry.

At this moment an ox-cart drove slowly out of one of the rocky defiles, in the direction of Jaarsveldt. Zyl, who was gaining on his flying friend, saw it also, and apparently recognizing the two men who were in it, waved his hat and shouted in his turn.

The Hottentot driver turned the head of his ox towards the boys, whilst his companion answered Zyl with the "view halloo" of an English sportsman.

Jack sprang to his feet at the sound of an English voice, realizing for the first time in his life all that word "countryman" means in a foreign land.

The ox-cart rumbled on. Zyl was running to meet it with eager joy. Jack had no eyes for the Hottentot driver; all his attention was centred on the big sun-umbrella which almost covered his companion.

As the boys came up to the cart, it was swung backwards. The owner of the umbrella, an aristocratic-looking young Englishman of twenty-two or twenty-three, held out his hand to Zyl with a smile. It was a pleasant smile as far as it went, for it only played around his lips; it never reached his eyes. About them there was a reckless, "don't care" expression which rather repelled Jack; but Zyl was obviously delighted to meet him.

"Please, sir, have you seen an ostrich?" asked Jack.

"Yes, dozens, my little man. But what is that to you?" was the somewhat curt reply.

"Please, sir, I have lost my Vickel, my own tame ostrich, and I have heard somebody calling her over there, the way you came," added Jack, pointing to the rocks.

"Somebody!" repeated the stranger, shaking with laughter. "I rather think it was Mr. Nobody. You little fool, to go chasing an echo! Come, jump in, both of you; for we are all risking a sunstroke crossing the veldt at noon. I did not bargain to be so late, I assure you."

Then he turned to Zyl and asked some questions in Dutch, to which the young Boer responded with more alacrity than usual. He scrambled up into the cart at once, trying to pull Jack after him.

"No, thanks," persisted Jack; "I don't want to ride; I must find my bird."

"Nonsense!" retorted the stranger. "Jump in this minute, or you will lose yourself. And where on earth will you be so likely to find your bird as in the ostrich camp at the next farm?"

"Perhaps you are right, sir," said Jack brightening.

"Boys do not say 'perhaps' to me," he continued, seating the two between himself and the Hottentot driver, who was by no means pleasant as a near neighbour on so hot a day.

Zyl got close to the Englishman, as if he had a special right to appropriate him, so Jack turned to the Hottentot, who did not laugh at his trouble, and promised readily, if he saw an ostrich with scorched wings, to catch her. Jack ventured to ask him in a whisper who the Englishman was that he was driving.

"He no father of mine," answered the driver; for to him father and master meant the same. "He be a Ingleese, who come and go from farm to farm, and he do cram little boys' heads with big words for three long days, till they sleepy, sleepy."

At this description of himself and his present occupation as itinerant schoolmaster, the Englishman laughed until he shook again. Then he laid one arm on Zyl's broad shoulders, and leaned across to question Jack.

"What makes you so curious about me?" he asked.

"Because you are an Englishman, and so is my father," replied the little fellow.

"Then I have a great mind to come and see him and cram your empty head; but mind you, if I find you going sleepy, sleepy, this will pretty quickly wake you up again," retorted the boyish schoolmaster, shaking the cane he carried.

Jack grew very red, being painfully conscious of his own short-comings; but he answered manfully, "I shouldn't be sleepy in the morning."

"All right," laughed the schoolmaster. "Zyl has been telling me all about you, John Treby, junior. Just give that to your father," he continued, tearing a leaf out of his pocket-book on which was written, "Sandford Algarkirke."

"Father will come back to Jaarsveldt to fetch me and the waggon, and then I will give it to him," answered Jack promptly.

"Will he come to-night?"

"Oh yes," answered Jack.

"Better and better!" cried young Algarkirke. "Then I shall see him to-night. I have not spoken to an Englishman for seven months. What part of the old country did your father come from?"

"Nottingham," returned Jack. "He told me only last night—no, I mean the last night at home, just before the thieves came—never to forget I have a grandfather living at Nottingham."

"Nottingham!" exclaimed Algarkirke in a tone that bordered on alarm, while for a moment the reckless "don't care" expression was banished from his brow.