Part 10

Mr. Treby's head went lower and lower. Jack really thought he kissed his snowy queen. He was sure his father muttered, "Yes, yes, you've been his guardian angel—saved and fed him."

"Yes, father; but I'm so sorry we've eaten all Vic's eggs, but the poor Black Antelope was so hungry."

Then Mr. Treby turned and grasped the skinny black fingers, trying to make the poor runaway understand she should always find in him a protector and a friend.

By this time they had reached the hut, and he left her to Tottie's care, telling the old Hottentot to find out, if she could, how he should best reward and serve the luckless girl.

"Buy her," said Tottie coolly.

Mr. Treby threw up his hands in despair. "God help us!" he exclaimed. "See what it is to live among savages. Just hear her, 'asking' an Englishman to buy human flesh and blood."

"But you won't send her back to Van Immerseel, father?" entreated Jack.

"There is not anything that I possess that I would not freely give her at this moment, and think it all too small, for I am very sure I owe your life to her and Vickel. But Englishmen make no slaves, my boy. Well, well, I shall have to do it though—buy her, and give her her freedom; that must be it. And then we can't turn her adrift on the veldt; we must hire her for a while, and then we'll see what more we can do."

"That we will, father," cried Jack, with brightening eyes, as they all sat down under the garden hedge.

Seco had gone to his hut for milk and fruit for the famished travellers.

"'For this my son was dead, and is alive again; was lost, and is found,'" said Mr. Treby reverently. "Trouble springs up thick and fast," he went on, with Jack's head resting on his shoulder; "but trace it home, it is all of man's making, and we should be crushed beneath its weight if there were not One above over-ruling all, and more ready to help us in our hour of need than we to ask."

"But I did ask, father," whispered Jack; "and I think the Lord heard me."

"Never doubt it, my boy. Prayer is the ladder which reaches up to heaven, and it is always ours.

"'It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning.'

"It was just that thought kept me up when my heart was breaking for you; and now—and now—Well, I have only to pour it out in thanksgiving."

"Both of us together, father," murmured the happy boy, as his eyes feasted on every dear familiar object the fire had spared.

XV.

_MR. TREBY'S DINNER-PARTY._

SIX weeks of hard work had passed away, and Jack's father had a roof over his head once more. He said it was the flood of happiness that overflowed his bounding heart when Jack was found, that enabled him to do twice as much work as he could at any other time in his life. Seco had been sent with the good news to Jaarsveldt, and brought back a pressing invitation for Jack to return there until the house was finished. But Mr. Treby shook his head.

"No, no," he said; "we'll part no more. Come what may, we'll rough it together, Jack."

Yet Jack did often wonder what Zyl and Genderen and Sannie were doing, and wished the farms were just a little nearer, so that they might see one another now and then. Neither did Mr. Treby forget their kindness to his boy.

"I tell you what, Jack," he said at last; "as soon as the house is finished, we'll have a grand day, and ask Van Immerseel to bring all his family to eat the first dinner in it with us."

Jack was full of glee. How he worked and slaved at the preparations—now raking out the rubbish from the garden, now helping his father with the carpentering, and busiest of all when his father trusted him with the paint-brush. An arbour was built in the shadiest nook he could find. The Black Antelope, with an apron of Tottie's tied over her scarlet blanket, was with Jack's assistance making herself a gown. There was not much to be said for its shape and work. Jack insisted upon it that it must have sleeves and a skirt; and the Black Antelope protested that the bags for the arms must be loose, or she should feel as if her arms were tied. She was learning fast a mixture of Hottentot and English, which Jack understood better than any one.

Life was running in the old grooves once again, except the watching for the English post. That had been altogether forgotten by Jack, and his father never spoke about the letter to grandfather which had almost cost Jack his life; for the thought of the poor child wandering in the veldt was more than he could bear. He could not talk about it yet; the very mention of it overcame him. But for all that the answer arrived by the return mail.

There was a thick letter for Mr. Treby, full of sympathy and consolation, assuring him his old father had sent him all he could spare to help him up the hill, and promising more by-and-by. Inside it there was another for Jack himself; and, odder still, a third for Sandford Algarkirke. Mr. Treby was entreated in a postscript to forward this to the young man at once, if he knew anything of his whereabouts.

There was something also in Mr. Treby's letter about Jack, which made him look up with proud, astonished eyes and murmur a fond, "God bless him!"

But Jack neither saw nor heard, for he was absorbed in his own, quite overwhelmed, in fact, by the dignity of receiving a letter of his own. It read as follows:—

"MY DEAR LITTLE GRANDSON,—That was a wonderful find of yours. That a bank-note should be lost in Nottingham and found in South Africa seems to me little short of a miracle. As soon as I had read your letter, I took my hat and stick and off I went to Hawkswood Hall. It was a good step for me, but I managed it by resting a bit here and there. For my little grandson's sake, I determined to give the note into the lady's own hands.

"The servants told me she was just going out and could not see me then. So I took out the note you had found, and told them to ask her if it was not her own handwriting; and if it were, they might say something else had been found with it which I wished to restore to her. I knew very well it was, for I had had many a note from her about the coal-club I started in the winter.

"Back came the footman with, 'Step this way, sir;' and he took me into a large room full of pictures and pretty things. There sat Mrs. Featherstone, with the tattered note spread out on a little table beside her. There was an eager look in her face that spoke of pain rather than pleasure.

"'I can hardly believe my eyes, Mr. Treby,' she began before I was well in at the door. 'But where, where in the whole world was this discovered?'

"'Where you would little think, ma'am—in the wilds of South Africa,' I said.

"'Was there anything in it?' she gasped.

"'Yes, ma'am—this.' And I spread the bank-note before her. First she turned crimson, then white as death itself. I thought she was fainting, so I looked round the room for the bell and rang it sharply. Whilst the servants were coming, I hobbled to the window and got it open.

"'Don't!' she gasped. 'Only tell me all quickly.'

"'As soon as you feel better, I'll read you my grandson's letter, and then you will know as much as I do.' I took out my glasses and began to clear them; but she couldn't wait that minute. She almost snatched the letter out of my hand, so I let her read it for herself. Presently she looked up.

"'You must leave me this.'

"I shook my head over that. 'Part with my grandson's first letter! No, no.'

"'Then wait,' she implored, 'while I send for Mr. Bourke. The loss of this note has made us bitter enemies. I sent it to him to head a subscription list, but it never reached him. I charged his landlady with stealing it; he charged my messenger. Two innocent people have been injured—perhaps irreparably injured. And now here it is. Imagine what my feelings are. I can never express my gratitude to your grandson. You must tell me how I can best I reward his honesty, his sterling honesty.'

"'He will find a rich reward when I tell him what you say,' I put in. 'Two innocent people cleared through him.'

"'Yes, through his courageous honesty. A man could not have acted more prudently. You ought to be proud of him,' she went on.

"'No need to tell me that,' I said. 'He is the very joy of his father's life. He'll make an upright, honourable man to take his father's place; for as the twig is bent, so is the tree inclined.'

"Whilst we were talking, in came the clergyman and his son. I liked the lad's face. He was a big, broad-shouldered young fellow, fresh from a military college.

"'Is it found?' asked the young cadet eagerly. 'Broad as my back may be, it has felt the weight of the blame I have had to bear for giving the note to Sandford Algarkirke, when I ought to have taken it myself.'

"'We have both of us been wrong, Mrs. Featherstone,' said the clergyman gravely. 'You and I refused to believe this money had been lost; we both agreed it must have been stolen. You fixed upon my housekeeper as the thief; and I, in my indignation at such injustice, determined to clear her by hunting out the real offender, and threatened to prosecute him, whoever he might prove to be. You persisted in believing Algarkirke's assertion, that he could not recollect what he did with the note, but as it was not in his pocket, he must have left it at my door.'

"'I warned him,' interrupted the soldier, 'he was likely to get into an unpleasant business, and begged him to try to remember. Like a coward, he took himself off to avoid the nuisance of the investigation. "The most foolish thing he could do," we all exclaimed. Of course suspicion fastened on him at once, and if he had set foot in England, he would have been taken by the police.'

"'Now read this letter,' interrupted Mrs. Featherstone.—'I wish you would leave it with us, Mr. Treby.'

"I was obliged to consent. They all promised to take the greatest care of it, and return it safely, saying such handsome things of you, my Jack, that it brought the tears into your old grandfather's eyes.

"In the evening young Bourke called, and asked me if I would enclose a note for Sandford Algarkirke to my son; for since it appeared he had bought a coat of him, he might know where to find him, which none of them did. So I promised him you and your father would do your best to find the foolish young fellow. Then he began to tell me how he was longing to reward my noble grandson.

"'Gently, gently,' I interrupted. 'Gentlemen don't take rewards for doing right.'

"'Well, anyhow, he shall hear from us all, and that before long,' he cried.

"So we shook hands most heartily; and I sat down to write this letter, and charge you never to part with that ostrich. What would I give to see you and your bird before I die!—Your delighted grandfather,

"JOHN TREBY.

"P.S.—I have written to your dear father about all his troubles. Be a good boy to him, and keep his courage up."

It was a happy moment for Jack when he laid down his grandfather's letter; and a happier still for Mr. Treby as he ran his eye over the closely-written page.

"Well, well," he said; "we'll give the letter for that young scatter-brain to Van Immerseel. He is sure to be at Jaarsveldt before long. But we've some weighty matters to consider before our Dutch neighbours arrive. There is a haunch of elk venison to be roasted and a game pie to be manufactured between us; and it strikes me I shall make a better out of it than Tottie, although I am not a Frenchman. Anyhow, we must try."

So to work they went, sunning themselves in grandfather's letter. The great effort, the risk, the peril, had not been all in vain.

"But they little think of all that effort cost," added Mr. Treby, with a deep-drawn sigh.

"Never mind, father," whispered Jack. "Now it's all over, let's be happy. Here they are!"

Jack pointed as he spoke to a lumbering vehicle, half gig, half cart, in which Van Immerseel was seated with his wife beside him, and Sannie, radiant in her Sunday attire, jolting on her mother's knee. Then came Walt upon his favourite hunter, with Genderen riding pillion behind him. Not a dozen yards behind them, Zyl was to be seen jogging along in the Hottentot's cart with the English schoolmaster.

"This is good luck, indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Treby, as he ran out to welcome his guests. "Where's my voorlooper?" asked Mr. Treby, as he took Sannie in his arms and kissed her fondly; for his heart had gone out to the Dutch baby, when she struck him on the knee and bade him look again for his Jack when everybody else was giving him up for dead.

But he was obliged to give her up to Jack, who rather shrank from meeting Van Immerseel, who roared out in his stentorian tones that he was coming to pay him for all his tricks.

XVI.

_THE SCHOOLMASTER'S GRATITUDE._

"I HAVE a note for you, Algarkirke," said Mr. Treby, when he had seen all his guests comfortably established—biped and quadruped alike enjoying the "good feed" he had provided in his hearty English hospitality.

The schoolmaster was in such constant request as interpreter that it was some minutes before he had a chance to open his letter. As it bore no post-mark, he concluded it must have come from some one in the neighbourhood. Possibly it held the promise of a future scholar; so he put it in his pocket to await some more convenient opportunity.

"It is from England," added Mr. Treby, in a low aside.

Algarkirke grew strangely pale, and crushed it out of sight. "Not a word before these Boers; remember your promise," he whispered, turning away from Mr. Treby to join in Walt Immerseel's boisterous mirth.

Mr. Treby carved his venison in thoughtful silence, whilst the whole family of the Immerseels did ample justice to his English fare.

When knives and forks were at last allowed to rest, and the great basket of fruit which Tante Milligen had brought with her was placed upon the table, Mr. Treby looked round for Jack.

He was expostulating with Zyl, who had taken the very best of the peaches on to his own plate, and then refused to taste them.

Jack was calling upon Mr. Algarkirke to find the reason why.

"Why?" repeated the schoolmaster laughing. "Because he means to plant them himself in your garden after dinner."

"Jack," said Mr. Treby, "come here, my boy, and tell your kind Dutch friends how sorry you are to have given them so much anxiety and trouble; and thank them as you ought for all they did to find you."

"Father, won't you speak for me? You'll make them understand ever so much better than I can," answered Jack coaxingly.

"No, no," returned Mr. Treby. "Just tell them how you lost yourself, and why you went away, that they may feel you are not the ungrateful boy you seemed."

"Please, Mr. Algarkirke," asked Jack, "will you tell it in Dutch after me?"

Glad of any diversion from the painful surprise Mr. Treby's words had awakened, and afraid of betraying his real feelings, Algarkirke assented readily.

Zyl, with his elbows on the table, greedily devoured every word with open mouth, as Jack recounted his adventures with Vickel in the sandy waste.

Jack did not like to tell tales of Otto to the Boer. He only said he wanted to post a letter to his grandfather.

Here Mr. Treby interposed with, "You need not mind speaking about Otto, for he has left Jaarsveldt for good."

The "oom" gave a low assenting grunt of satisfaction; and Jack went back in his story to describe the finding of the bank-note.

Up sprang Algarkirke, and seizing Jack by the collar, he thundered out, "That coat was mine, and anything found in it should have been given to me. How dare you send it away, you wretched little rascal! I'll never forgive you, never!"

Jack was startled by the fury of Algarkirke's tones.

Walt sprang to his feet, and Zyl doubled his fists, ready to punch the schoolmaster's head.

But Jack answered toughly,—

"Mr. Algarkirke, you quite forget I did not know where you were, and the bank-note was not yours; so I sent it to grandfather to give it back to the lady it really belonged to, and he has done it. You can read his letter if you like."

"I rather think you had better before you thrash my Jack," observed Mr. Treby dryly.

Jack pulled the letter out of his pocket and offered it to Algarkirke. Zyl and his big brother eyed him whilst he read, like two young bull-dogs preparing for a spring; but their indignation was somewhat appeased when Algarkirke flung down the paper and grasped Jack's hand.

"Am I dreaming?" he demanded. "By what magic have you done all this? Can it be true?"

"Why don't you read your own letter, Mr. Algarkirke?" retorted Jack. "It came in grandfather's, as he says."

The bewildered schoolmaster obeyed.

His note was brief:—

"DEAR SANDFORD,—Come back. The mystery is explained. Letters from Nottingham and remittances will await you at Pretoria. Return to us, and the past will be made up to you. I dare not write more plainly, not knowing whether this will ever reach you. But I snatch at the chance, for the man who bought my old coat of you may be able to find you out.—Your miserable friend, HORACE BOURKE."

"Farewell to Africa, and hurrah for merry England!" shouted Algarkirke, tossing the letter to the ceiling and catching it again, whilst the stolid Dutch faces around him stared in blank amazement. "Jack, Jack! You've been my good genius in very truth. Come along with me and I'll take you to England and make a man of you, my boy," he ran on.

"I rather think he bids fair to develop into that already, without wanting help of yours," observed Mr. Treby. "But how about this coat I bought of you? It's yours, and it's not yours, and I am earnestly requested in my letter of this morning to send it back to England."

"Horace Bourke and I were school-fellows," began Algarkirke. "We met one day at a village cricket match near Hawkswood Hall. One of the boys got hurt. Horace took his bat. As he pulled off his coat, he threw it to me, saying, 'Take care of it for me, Sandford, for there is a note in the pocket for father.'

"While they were playing, a bull broke loose from a neighbouring farm, and rushed into the field, scattering the cricketers, who ran for their lives, I among the rest. Horace snatched up one of the stumps and tried to drive the beast away. He shouted to me to fetch his gun. 'And give the note for father to one of our people, so that he gets it in time,' he added.

"Off I ran towards the parsonage. Before I reached it a thunder-storm came on. I threw his coat over my shoulders to keep myself dry. I got the gun, but forgot all about the note. Alarmed for his young master's safety, the gardener went back with me.

"When we gained the field we found the bull had been shot by its owner. I could not see anything of Horace, so I gave the man the gun and told him I must borrow the coat to go home in, as it still continued to pour. Before I had a chance to return the coat, Horace wrote to ask which of his father's people had taken the note from me, as it had never reached him.

"I started up in a fright and felt in the pockets of the coat, but as there was nothing in them I thought I must have left the note with the woman who gave me the gun, but the scare with the bull had put it all out of my head. That was how I answered him. Then I went on a tour with an old chum to get rid of the bother. When it came out there was money in the note, and I was charged with stealing it, my mother was frightened out of her senses. She packed up my belongings, and Horace's coat with them; for he privately entreated her not to send it back, not to let any one know I had taken it home, as it would go against me. She charged me to prolong my tour, but not to send her any address. We only communicated under cover to my Dutch friends at Amsterdam, and that but rarely, so that I had begun to think I was expatriated for life. No one but my mother believed in my innocence, and she reproached me with having brought all this trouble on myself by my confounded carelessness."

The "oom" blew a great whiff of smoke from his long clay pipe, and gave a nod to his sons that said plainly, "Are you listening to that, boys? Take the lesson home."

Zyl flung a snort of contempt at his schoolmaster, and kicked his heels remorselessly against the legs of Mr. Treby's new chairs.

Algarkirke went on, impetuously. "But you, Jack, you are the best friend I ever had in all my life, for you have cleared me. When my mother knows what you have done, there will be nothing that is in her power that she would not do for you in return."

"Oh, nonsense, Mr. Algarkirke," interrupted Jack, mindful of his grandfather's words. "It was Vic found it, not I. I am only so glad to have been some good in the world already."

Genderen, who had been whispering with her mother, touched Algarkirke's arm. "Talk with us about that." She smiled significantly.

Mr. Treby glanced approvingly at his boy. "And even now," he thought, "Algarkirke does not realize what this has cost you. But he is a more wretched cad than I take him to be if I can't make him feel before we part the moral difference between a boy who asks himself, What ought I to do? What would be right? And then does the best he can, without a thought of the consequences, and a selfish fellow, who only wants to shirk all responsibility and back out of everything disagreeable. It may open his eyes and make a change in his own character, for after all it is character shapes our destiny, both here and hereafter."

Aloud he said: "Keep on with your story, Jack, while you have so good an interpreter as Mr. Algarkirke. The Van is growing impatient."

As Mr. Treby spoke, the worthy Boer was thundering on the table with his clenched fist to recall Jack's attention.

Jack did not want to say any more about himself. It seemed to him so like being his own trumpeter. He grew hot at the thought, but his father urged him on with—"Remember the poor Black Antelope. We may never have such another chance to reinstate her in her old master's good graces. You must plead for her, my boy. No one but you can do it half so well."

"Yes, father, I must, I ought, and I will," answered Jack, as Walt hoisted him on a chair, exclaiming, "Jah, Jah!" for he had guessed the purport of Mr. Treby's last aside.

Zyl muttered an emphatic "Go it," a new English phrase he had picked up in the last three days, when Sannie appeared in the doorway, tugging with all her might at the scanty skirt of the unlucky Kafir.

It must be admitted that Jack's first essay at "tailoring" had not produced a West End fit. The grotesqueness of her appearance threw Tante Milligen into a fit of laughter. It was a happy moment. The pardon was granted before the pleading was well begun. Mr. Treby's Kafir guide, who, under pretence of driving Vickel away from Sannie, continued to linger round the door, began to gesticulate violently.

"Inkoos, casa," he began, in the picturesque language of his tribe, "lift up the bruised rosebud these men have trampled in the dust, and give her to me. I've room in my kraal for just such a wife, and I've sheep and oxen to buy her with; and no man shall wrong her any more, for the spear that stands in the corner of my hut would be swift as the lightning to strike him, and the heart which beats in my bosom beats only for her."

There was a softer glow in the downcast eyes of the Kafir girl than Jack had ever seen there before as his father answered,—

"She is free to go or stay as she chooses; but if she goes with you, Madzook, it shall not be empty-handed. The brindled heifer, and the pail and the English churn which she so admires, are all her own. She will tell you how she watched over my boy, and she takes a father's blessing with her wherever she goes."