CHAPTER IV

THE JEW

The following day Steve’s host had decided to go to Johannesburg to arrange about the sale of some slaughter bullocks. He invited Steve to go with him and act as interpreter. Steve said he should enjoy the drive, and went.

After business was concluded, Steve and Oom Hans were seated at a table in a _café_, partaking of some refreshments. On the opposite side of the table were seated two Jews, discussing some samples of quartz before them.

At last one of the Jews turned towards Oom Hans, with the usual insinuating familiar manner of the Jew and said,--

‘Mijnheer, don’t you tink dis quartz is goot? Dere ought to pe lots of gold in it?’

Oom Hans indulged in his usual quiet, good-natured laugh, and, turning to Steve, said,--

‘Let us make the hearts of these Jews ache a little. Show them a piece of the quartz you put in your pocket, but (aside) mind you don’t tell them our names or where we live?’

Steve smilingly took out a piece of quartz--it was by no means the best, and handed it to the Jews, and asked,--

‘What do you think of that?’

The Jews took the quartz, looked at it, and nearly jumped out of their boots from excitement when they saw the richness of the quartz.

They laughed, they shouted, they danced. They called for coffee, tea, lemonade, and a dish full of the nicest cake in the establishment, and placed it before the strangers, who carried _such_ samples of quartz about them.

‘_Eet, mijnheer, drink, mijnheer, ons zal betaal_’--‘eat and drink master, we will pay.’

When they had quieted down, the Jews came and seated themselves near to Steve and Oom Hans, and started pumping operations.

‘Is dis quartz from your farram, mijnheer?’

‘Yes,’ was the uncompromising reply.

‘Where do you lif, mijnheer?’

‘In the Transvaal?’

‘Yes; put where? What district?’

‘Oh, in one of the districts?’ was the laughing rejoinder.

‘Near what town, mijnheer?’

‘Oh, within a thousand miles of Johannesburg?’

The Jews laughed as if this was a very good joke. They were confident of getting round this stupid old Boer.

‘Will mijnheer not have a drink--whisky, prandy, or gin, whatever you like?’

‘No, thank you. We do not drink strong drink,’ interfered Steve. They had not touched the refreshments supplied by the Jews.

‘What is mijnheer’s name?’ continued Jew No. 2.

‘Hans?’

‘Yes; put Hans what?--your family name, I mean?’

‘Oh, just Hans; that is enough for you,’ said Oom Hans, laughing. The eagerness of the Jews amused him.

‘Well, look here, Mijnheer Hans, what will you take for your farm?’

‘Nothing?’

‘What!’

‘Nothing?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t want to sell it!’

‘Not at any price? I will give you a big price for it.’

‘No; I do not want to sell at any price.’

‘Not for a hundred tousand pound? two hundred tousand pound? five hundred tousand pound? Come, if you show me a reef like that quartz on your farm, I shall give you one million pounds. Don’t say no, mijnheer--_Ten hundred tousand pounds?_’

‘No, I don’t want your money.’

‘You tink I have no money! Come to the bank, I will show you. You tink you get more from annuder man. I tell you one million pound very much monies. Ask the young man!’ pointing to Steve.

‘No, I don’t want your money. Come, Stephaans, let us go.’

The Jew ran towards the door and said,--

‘Don’t go yet, Mijnheer Hans. I give you what you ask; you make your own price. Or I tell you what, you keep your farm, you just tell me where it is, you show me the place that sample comes from, and I will give you five tousand pound--ten tousand pound,’ eagerly added the Jew, visions of a rich prospector’s mijnpacht floating before his eyes.

Oom Hans was getting tired of this, as well as annoyed at the Jew’s perseverance. He must get rid of him.

‘I will think of it, and let you know to-morrow,’ he said.

‘Where shall I see you?’

‘If I want to do business with you, I will come here at ten o’clock to-morrow,’ was the non-committal reply.

Steve and Oom Hans went to the boarding-house, where they had secured a room. They noticed that the Jews followed them, and after having seen them into the boarding-house, left again, apparently satisfied that they could lay their hands on the old Boer when they wanted him. But they counted without their host. The old man paid his bill before going to bed; and when the sun rose, he and Steve were far on their way home.