CHAPTER V

THE JEW AGAIN--DISCOURAGED

Steve was once more in Pretoria. He had been for a week back in work, when one evening, as he was walking leisurely home from business, he heard an eager exclamation of joy behind him. The next moment his arm was firmly caught hold of, and he heard a Jewish voice, not quite unfamiliar, saying,--

‘Oh, mine tarling poy, how I have looked for you; oh, praise pe to father Abraham, I have found you.’

Steve’s hand was snatched up eagerly and joyfully shaken. It was one of the Jews they had met in Johannesburg.

‘Oh, how I have looked for you, mine frint. I have made two horses tie, so I have rode them, to find you, and your honest old frint. Come, come, let us go into this bar and have a bottle of fiz.’

‘No, thank you, I do not take wine or spirits, and I have no time now to talk to you,’ replied Steve, annoyed at the scene the Jew was creating in the street, causing the passing people to stand and stare at the vehement joy of the Jew.

‘But, my frint, I must speak to you, I can’t let you go now, after looking so long for you; I tell you I have been everywhere trying to find you, from the day I saw you in Johannesburg. Oh, no, I will not let you go; you must speak to me, I have much to tell you.’

Steve saw it was no use trying to get rid of the Jew in this way.

‘Come to my room, and do not talk so loud in the street,’ said he, walking rapidly on, the Jew sticking to him like a leech.

‘Now, quick, what do you want from me?’ said Steve, as he handed the Jew a seat in his room.

‘Oh, come, you know I want to puy de gold farm of your friend--what’s his name?’ said the Jew, thinking to catch Steve off his guard.

‘Never mind his name now. As regards buying his farm, he has already declined doing business with you. Why do you pester me now about a thing that is settled?’

‘Oh, he will sell to me, I shall give lots of money, only tell me where I can find him, that is all I ask of you?’

‘I certainly shall not tell you where to find him, so you might as well go home.’

‘Look here, young man, you are not rich, I will make you rich if you will only bring me to the farm, so that I can speak to him myself. I will give you one tousand pounds for only telling me the man’s name and address.’

The Jew mostly spoke with a fairly good accent, but whenever he got excited, he dropped into his Jewish accent.

‘I shall _not_ give you his name and address, not for a thousand pounds or more,’ was Steve’s reply. The Jew looked surprised, but he thought Steve must be _sticking_ out for a better offer.

‘I shall give you two thousand pounds, only for a name and address,’ he bid again.

Steve shook his head.

‘Young man, don’t tread your fortune under feet; you will never get such an opportunity again; I shall make you a good final offer now. Give me the name and address, tell me where you got that sample of quartz from, and I shall give you _five thousand pound_, and if I secure it, I shall give you _ten thousand pound_, now is your chance, take it.’

Steve smiled at the persistence of the Jew. He sat thinking for a minute or two, while the Jew sat watching him eagerly. At last he said,--

‘I will tell you what I will do. I shall go out to-morrow and see the gentleman. I will do my best with him. If I can persuade him to see you, I will tell you so the day after to-morrow; if you can succeed to buy the farm from him, I will accept your offer, if not, then I do not want your money. Good night.’

The Jew saw that he would get nothing more from Steve, but he left perfectly satisfied apparently.

Steve obtained leave of absence for the following day that same evening. The following morning he left early on horseback.

Several times while riding on he fancied he heard hoof-strokes behind him, but the country was undulating, and covered with patches of trees, so that he could see a very little of the road behind him; besides, he did not attach much importance to the fact.

When he arrived at the farm of Oom Hans, he immediately told him all the Jew had said and done. Oom Hans was annoyed that the Jew should have discovered Steve, and preached a little sermon to himself for having indulged in what he considered at the time a little harmless pleasantry. But he could not help laughing that the Jew should have been hunting for him so long and so earnestly.

‘Well, Steve, if you think it hard on you that your promise to me prevents you from accepting the Jew’s offer of five thousand pounds for my name and address, I will release you from your promise; tell him my name and address, but I warn you I will make it hot for him should he come here.’

‘Oom Hans, I hope you do not think so badly of me as to think I would break my promise to you for five thousand pounds. No, I will never tell the Jew unless you change your mind as to the selling of the farm; besides, it would be very dishonest to take the Jew’s money, if I know that he will get nothing for it.’

At this moment a knock was heard at the door.

Oom Hans looked out of the window to see who it was. He turned to Steve, with anger on his face, and said,--

‘So, then, you come to me like a hypocrite, and pretend that you come to ask my permission to give the Jew my address, while all the time you had the Jew waiting for you outside.’

‘What do you mean, Oom Hans?’

‘Come and look for yourself.’

Steve looked, and there the Jew was standing on the stoep, waiting for an answer to his knock. Steve remembered the hoof-strokes he had heard behind him. He saw that the Jew had been watching and following him.

‘Oom Hans, I give you my word of honour that what I told you was the truth, and that I know nothing of the Jew’s being here, except that I think the knave has been following me without my knowledge.’

Steve’s voice and manner conveyed the truth of what he was saying to Oom Hans. He was believed. This made the old man all the angrier with the Jew.

He went to the door, opened it, and looked at the Jew. The Jew flew towards him with open arms, and an angelic smile of affection on his face.

‘Oh, mine frint, how I have wished for you,’ and the Jew went on in a flow of affectionate terms.

Oom Hans coldly waved him off, and said, ‘Wait a moment.’ He went in again, closing the door after him. He went to a shelf, took down a rusty old elephant gun, as large as a young cannon. He poured about a quarter of loose gunpowder down the capacious barrel, rammed down half a newspaper by way of a plug, and went out again, putting on as severe a face as he could.

Steve came out now and took Oom Hans by the arm, saying,--

‘For God’s sake, Oom, don’t shoot the man!’

‘Be quiet, you fool!’ roared Oom Hans, and turning round, he winked at Steve, giving him a momentary smile to reassure him. Steve saw that it was only going to be a farce, and not a tragedy, as he at first feared.

Oom Hans now turned to the trembling Jew, who stood quaking with clasped hands, afraid to run, and afraid to stay.

‘My God, these Boers are terrible when angry,’ he muttered.

‘What do you say?’ roared Oom Hans.

‘I say, sir, that the Boers are the best people in the world, and that the English are dogs.’

‘Say that again, and I shall send a bullet through you in a moment. The English, sir, are our friends, while they live at peace with us, so be careful what you say.’

‘The English are a good people, sir. Oh, yes, they will always be the best friends of the Boers.’

‘Silence, you dog! You say that because you are afraid of my gun. Now, look here, is that your horse there?’

‘Yes, sir, I will make you a present of him, if you want him.’

‘Silence! I will count ten to give you time to get on your horse, and ten to get out of gunshot, after that I fire.’

‘Oh, but, sir, I come to do pisness; I bring you lots of monies. Just listen one word.’

‘One!’

‘One word only, sir,’ said the Jew, tears running down his eyes.

‘Two!’

The Jew began to retreat, still praying for an interview.

‘Three!’

The Jew was now running.

‘Ten!’ he heard shouted at him, as he mounted his horse. He waited no more after that, he used spur and whip to urge his horse forward. He thought that he had gone but a short distance, when he heard a report like the report of a cannon behind him.

‘Oh, father Abraham, receive my soul,’ he prayed, ‘for I must be hit; a Boer never misses.’

He was surprised to feel no pain or wound.

‘Now, I must race, before he can load again,’ he muttered, applying spur and whip with fresh energy, as he lay forward on the neck of the horse.

When Steve and Oom Hans recovered from their fit of laughter, into which they had fallen at the sight of the Jew’s fear of a charge of loose gunpowder, they saw the Jew disappearing on a rise about a mile away, his arm still rising and falling as he lashed his horse furiously. The Jew must have done the distance from the farm to Pretoria in record time that day, as he was seen by several people on the road, riding his horse at full speed, looking back every minute to see if he was pursued.

He was never seen on that farm again.