CHAPTER XXI

THE OTHER VAN DER WYCK

IT was an embarrassing situation. To expect to find a friend and be confronted by an utter stranger was decidedly disconcerting. The chums found themselves wishing that they had not been so exuberant.

Instead of the tall, bearded Piet Van der Wyck, they saw a sparely-built, grey-haired and white-bearded man of between sixty and seventy, who was busily engaged in wiping down the legs of a black horse.

Perhaps, after all, Van der Wyck was somewhere in the stables, and this old man was one of his friends who had accompanied him on his long trek. Colonel Narfield had not mentioned that Van der Wyck had a companion, but that might have been an omission.

The old man desisted from his task and straightened himself laboriously. Then he looked at the two chums. Of the three he was the least concerned. In a strange place he naturally expected to meet strangers.

"Good day!" he exclaimed slowly, in English, with the accent common to the Cape Dutch when speaking any language but their own.

"Good day," replied Colin. "We rather startled you when we barged in here. We came to see Mr. Van der Wyck."

"I am Van der Wyck," replied the stranger gravely.

"Piet Van der Wyck of Mafeking?" asked Sinclair in astonishment.

"Piet Van der Wyck, of Erasmus Farm, near Mafeking," corrected the old man courteously. "I do not know you, but that is a matter that can soon be put right."

"Of course," agreed Colin heartily. He realised that there was a mistake somewhere, and he was too considerate to tell the old man bluntly that he was not the person that Colonel Narfield had invited to Kilembonga.

He introduced Tiny and himself to the old farmer, and suggested that they should help him to finish grooming the horse.

"No, no," was the decided reply. "I have ridden Zwart Hans for fifteen years, and have always attended to him myself. You are the sons of Colonel Narfield?"

Colin hastened to correct the false impression.

"Is that so?" asked the farmer with a trace of disappointment. "From the Colonel's kind letter of invitation I understood that Colin and Tiny were his children."

"You have had a long journey," remarked Tiny.

"Ah, yes; five days on the train. I rode most of the way in the horse-box so as to keep Zwart Hans company. Then there was the horrible voyage for me who had never before been in a ship; and I am sixty-nine come Christmas. True, it was on a large lake, but we were long out of sight of land until we neared Ujiji. Allemachte! And to think I have to return that way!"

"It was a long journey," agreed Sinclair.

"Yes," rejoined the old man simply, "it was. But the kind Colonel's invitation, together with the fact that I had a nephew who fell fighting the Germans and who is buried just outside Tabora, were sufficient inducements for me to undertake the trek."

"You have other relations in this country, perhaps?" asked Desmond.

The farmer shook his head.

"None," he replied. "I had sons and nephews, but they are dead. But now I have finished my task. We will return to the house."

The two chums saw that there were rocks ahead. Colonel Narfield ought to be warned that a mistake had been made somewhere, but at the same time Farmer Van der Wyck ought not to be allowed to know that he was a guest through misapprehension. It seemed impossible to find an excuse to see the Colonel alone, and yet---- Suddenly an inspiration flashed across Sinclair's mind. "Right-o!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "Come along, Tiny; we'll take Mr. Van der Wyck back to the house."

Desmond tumbled to it. In order to make things easier, they were to pretend that the old farmer was _the_ Van der Wyck until they found an opportunity of letting Colonel Narfield know the exact position of affairs. But Colin managed to scribble a note and give it to Tenpenny Nail, with instructions to hand it to the Colonel.

But, alas! for that scheme.

Colonel Narfield, courteous and hospitable, beamed on the old farmer as he entered the house with Colin and Desmond hanging on to his arms.

"Now," he exclaimed, "you must be hungry, Mr. Van der Wyck. The boys have had a long journey, too, but not so long as yours."

"Ah, no," agreed the old man. "Mine was a long journey. And the ship! At my age! It was the first time I was on the water."

"Eh, what!" exclaimed Colonel Narfield in surprise. "I thought----"

A bang on the door saved the situation. Tenpenny Nail entered, with a grin on his face and a piece of paper screwed up in his hand.

"Pencil-talk him come, sah!" he announced.

"Who from?" asked Colonel Narfield, taking a note, for communications of that description were few and far between in and around the Kilembonga Estate.

"Me make ask Blue Fly--him tell," said the Haussa equivocally.

However, the Colonel did not press the point. His own question was a superfluous one. It would be answered when he read the note.

It was in Colin's handwriting, and read as follows:

"There is a mistake somewhere. This is not our Van der Wyck. We'll tell you when we have a chance of seeing you alone. Please don't say anything to upset the old man; he's rather a good sort.--COLIN."

"All right, Tenpenny Nail," said the Colonel. "No answer."

He gave a confirmatory glance at Sinclair and then turned to Van der Wyck.

"Hope you'll excuse me," he remarked. "There's something that demands my immediate attention. The boys will entertain you, I know."

He went out, considering that, in the circumstances, it was the best thing to do. Had he remained, he would have had to take part in the conversation, which was likely to reach an awkward stage. Until he knew how matters stood he preferred to keep out of the way.

Colin and Tiny played their part well. Keeping to general topics, they maintained a full-head of steam until the somewhat retiring old farmer began to feel quite at home, still more so when, at the conclusion of the meal, black coffee was served and a bag of Boer tobacco placed at Van der Wyck's disposal.

It was not until the evening that the chums found Colonel Narfield alone.

"You've landed yourselves in a pretty hole," he remarked with a laugh. "Saddling yourselves with the wrong man."

"It was your scheme, sir," Colin reminded him. "We knew nothing about your having invited him until a few weeks ago. It's a strange coincidence: he has the same box-office--No. 445--as the number the other Van der Wyck gave us."

"Evidently your pal knows this fellow," remarked Colonel Narfield. "For some reason he's working a double stunt. By-the-bye, did you ask our guest if he knew of a certain Jan Groute?"

"The fellow who held up the train near Vryburg?" asked Desmond.

Colonel Narfield nodded.

"We didn't," replied both lads.

"Then I would, if I were you," suggested the Colonel. "His reply may be interesting. However, I've invited Mr. Van der Wyck here, and we must do our duty as hosts and make him comfortable. You say he's a decent sort?"

"Absolutely," declared Colin.

"Right-o; carry on," added the Colonel. "I've had some good times on Boer farms, and it's up to us to show that we can be hospitable, too. We'll give him as good a holiday as we know how."