CHAPTER XXVII

A DANGEROUS FORD

The day of the funeral was Sunday. Steve and party took leave of the sad household, and the following day went farther on.

Keith was moved by the kindness and godliness of the family he had just left. ‘These Boers are not such a bad and uncivilised people as they are made out to be by their enemies; in fact, I wish Englishmen were more like them. What surprises me in them is their quiet, simple, unboastful manner, and their extreme kindness to strangers such as I am.’

‘You will find exceptions to every rule,’ Steve replied. ‘You will find boasters and bad people amongst them as amongst all other peoples. But, as a people, they are true Christians, leading a life as near as they can to what their Bible teaches them their lives should be. Their Bible is their law, and by that standard they act and judge all things. It is true they have some prejudices, likes and dislikes, which is to be deplored; but even in that they injure no man. They have the making of a great people in them, and I am proud to be of their race.’

During the Monday, our friends moved on quietly, their conversation was hushed, they spoke of serious matters; and the usual lively and sportive conversation prevailing amongst a party of young men out by themselves, was entirely absent.

The road they were travelling ran through a vast plain, black as night. The fire, prevalent at this season, had burnt up every blade of grass. The farmers usually burn the grass down just before the first summer rains come on, so as to have the grass come out young and tender for their flocks. And as soon as rain has fallen, and the grass is growing, they move out of their winter quarters in the bush veld, and come back to their houses on the high veld, which, during the winter, are left under the care of, perhaps, one member of the family, or a native servant whom they can trust, or is left to take care of itself.

The party travelled on all day, and came only at midday to a house, where they could obtain a little soaked mealies for their horses. All the other houses they had come to were deserted, as the families were still in the bush veld, and they had been unable to procure a mouthful of forage for their horses. They themselves were all right, for they had a good stock of provisions, but the poor brutes were starving.

After the feed of mealies, the horses put a little spurt on again during the afternoon, but soon the want of food again made itself felt.

The young men began to feel anxious. If the horses got no food, they could not pull the cart; and to remain stuck in such a black and uninhabited plain, with no shelter from the hot sun, would be decidedly unpleasant.

They had been directed to a farm where they would find good people at home, as well as forage for their horses and game for their guns, and were pushing on to reach this place. But on this bare, black plain many roads crossed and recrossed. It was a regular network of roads running from farm to farm. They became confused as to which road they should take and which leave. They soon realised the fact that they had lost their road, and were going at random. The danger now began to get serious. Their horses were dragging wearily along, and could scarcely keep up a semblance of a trot, and would soon give in altogether. The poor brutes had been in harness most of the day, and that on a mouthful of mealies only. But what could they do? They must keep on to reach shelter for themselves and food for the horses. Night is coming on; ’tis only twilight now, and twilight does not last longer than thirty or forty minutes here. Soon they will be unable to see the road, and will be forced to span out on this barren, inhospitable veld.

‘Hurrah! I see a light, and what is more, the dim outline of trees, and I do believe a house,’ cried Steve.

‘But where the dickens is the road?’ cried his cousin. The road seemed suddenly to disappear on the hard, unimpressionable soil. But all jumped down and went in search of a road.

Going a little forward, they discovered that they were by no means out of the difficulty yet. A river lay between them and the light, and what is more no _drift_ was visible. The banks were steep, and no cart could pass it, and a deep _zee koe gat_ (wallowing pools of sea-cows) occupied the whole visible stretch of the river. They ran up against the stream and soon came to what appeared to be a sort of _drift_. But what a _drift_.

On examination they found it to be an old disused _drift_ or ford. Wash-aways of one foot to a foot and a half crossed the steep road, going down into the river. And in the river itself large round stones three feet high lay piled up one against the other on the only place where a cart might have passed. What were they to do now? No other _drift_ seemed near. Stay there they could not, and darkness was settling down on the land.

They stood looking in dismay at this _drift_. The opposite side was not crossed by wash-aways, but seemed to be almost one large precipice in itself. But still, with good horses, once there, they might be able to mount it. But how to get there?

‘Well, I do not see the use of standing talking here; we cannot stay here--cross we must--let us act!’ said Steve.

‘But we cannot cross here,’ cried Harrison. ‘The cart would be smashed! So how can we act?’

‘I for one won’t drive through here; my life is not insured,’ said Steve’s cousin.

‘And I would not remain on the cart if you did,’ said Keith.

‘Well, undo the leaders and lead them across. I shall drive the cart over, but with the wheelers only. They seem to be steady and reliable, and fairly lively yet,’ said Steve.

The others stared at him, but he remained cool and calm, as all great natures do in the time of peril. He started undoing the leaders, as the others seemed in doubt whether to take him at his word or not, led them on one side, and handed them to Theron, who seemed the most collected of the others.

He got on the cart, spoke firmly but kindly to the horses, took the reins well and strongly in hand, as short as possible, and started down the precipitous road. When he got to the first drop or wash-away in the road, he made the horses climb down first, stopped them, then moved them forward step by step, holding them hard in the mouth, until the cart came on the edge of the drop. When the cart came to the edge, it dropped down, but gently, as the horses at this moment, pulled back firmly by Steve, pressed the wheels firmly against the side of the little precipice, and thus broke the fall, bringing the cart down with only a slight bump, without injuring it in the least.

In this way he climbed down all the dangerous drops, until he came to the river itself.

Here the danger seemed greatest. How to get across those great, big, round stones? But even across these he got, foot by foot, inch by inch, making the horses pull the wheels out against the round sides of the rocks, and back it down gently on the other side. Thus he went from rock to rock. Sometimes the wheels jumped from rock to rock, when they were near enough; sometimes the cart seemed on the point of tumbling over into the _zee koe gat_ alongside, when one wheel was on top of a rock and the other down between two others. But the worst of all was the feet of the poor tired horses amongst these great, big, round boulders. Sometimes one or the other would slip down on its knees, only to be picked up gently by the firm hand at the reins; sometimes their feet would stick fast between two rocks, but by moving only one step at a time, and keeping his horses quiet, Steve found himself at last in front of the steep wall on the other side. Now he fully saw how steep it was, and, worst of all, it was heavy sand. Will the poor, tired horses ever manage to get out of this hole? Should the horses lose their footing or give in for a second, when half-way, the cart would drag them down, and all would come down in a broken mass--horses kicking, stones obstructing--and, perhaps, the whole would go down into the _zee koe gat_, which would mean almost certain death to the man finding himself entangled in this mass. But there is no time for hesitating now. He is in, and must get out. It is nearly quite dark now. After giving the horses a moment to breathe, he let go the reins, shouted to them to go, and lashed them until they flew forward in terror, right against the steep wall. Now they are half-way up--my God! they are slipping in the sand! For a moment they seemed to go down. No! up they go again. They pant and bend, but up they go; and at last, the cart stands on level ground again.

Now only Steve discovers that he is pouring wet; the sweat is simply running from him. He is trembling all over from excitement; his mouth is parched. He steps down, quiets the horses, gets a drink from the water canteen, and wipes the sweat from his eyes and is himself again. He is soon joined by his companions, leading the two other horses. They had been standing looking on as if paralysed. They expected to see the cart sink into ruins every moment, and their admiration was unbounded when they saw him guide the vehicle over obstacle after obstacle, safe and sound. When they came up to him, they generously congratulated him, in unmeasured terms, for his pluck and skill; and, to the end of their trip, when they came to dangerous places (which was often enough), they made him take the reins, to the disgust of his cousin.

Well now, at last they could go to the house they had seen at a distance. It is true it is dark and no road visible, but the light still shone and invited them on; and after such a _drift_ crossed, surely they can find their way across the level plain, even though it be dark. Steve led the way on foot, and soon they found themselves in front of the house they had seen.

But their hopes appeared dashed to the ground again.

‘Seems to me this is a poor show, and it strikes me we will have to camp outside after all.’

They had come to the poorest of poor houses. A low, small mud house. It must be one of the poorest farmers in the district.

The barking of the dogs had brought the inmates out of the house by this time. The following dialogue took place.

‘Good evening, Oom.’ (Steve spoke).

‘Good evening, Neef.’ (Nephew).

‘Who lives here, Oom.’

‘I do!’

‘May I ask Oom’s name?’

‘Certainly, young man; my name is Zarl Venter.’

‘Will Oom have a shelter for us to-night.’

‘Young friend, I have never turned a stranger away from my door, even though I am poor; and hope I never will. If you are satisfied with the best we have, which is not much, you are welcome.’

‘Thank you, Oom; we have food, but we should like a shelter as it looks like rain, and a little food and shelter for our horses.’

‘Food and shelter for yourselves, I have already told you you are welcome to the best we have. As to your horses, I have no stable, but those big trees are as good as any stable if it does not rain very much. As to forage, my son has a little; you must ask him.’

‘We will pay him for it, uncle.’

‘Speak to him yourselves.’

The horses were soon tied up and fed, and our young men found themselves in a low room, barely furnished, with a few chairs and a table. Supper was on the table, and consisted of coffee and bread _ad lib_, nothing more.

The young fellows stared at each other. They were hungry, and only bread and coffee. True, it was nice, fresh, delicious home-made bread; but bread and coffee was no supper for a hungry townsman. True they had plenty of nice tinned meats and fish on the cart, but on its being suggested in a whisper to Steve by his cousin, he shook his head. He had no wish to humiliate the poor old people by bringing food to their table, after they had offered them the best they had. So after their frugal meal, they retired to bed. They slept on the bed of the old couple themselves; who, as Oom Ignatious and his wife had done, slept on the floor to accommodate their stranger guests. The son had a little nest of his own, but one too poor to offer to these city folks.

The four had to make themselves as comfortable as they could on the large double bed of the old people, by lying crosswise. At any rate, the bed was perfectly clean.