The Settler and the Savage. Robert Michael Ballantyne

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СКАЧАТЬ so we don’t need to trouble ourselves about ’em.—Come, Dally, you’ll join us?”

      “No, thank ’ee. Much obleeged all the same, but I’ve got to prepare breakfast for our own party.—Goin’ to begin plantin’ soon?”

      “As soon as ever we can get the soil broken up,” replied Dobson.

      “Studied farmin’?” inquired George.

      “Not much, but we flatter ourselves that what we do know will be of some service to us,” said John.

      Dally made no reply, but he greatly doubted in his own mind the capacity of the brothers for the line of life they had chosen.

      His judgment in this respect was proved correct a week later, when he and Edwin Brook had occasion to visit the brothers, whom they found hard at work ploughing and sowing.

      “Come, this looks business-like!” exclaimed Brook heartily, as he shook hands with the brothers; “you’ve evidently not been idle. I have just come to ask a favour of you, gentlemen.”

      “We shall grant it with pleasure, if within our powers,” said Robert Skyd, who leaned on a spade with which he had been filling in a trench of about two feet deep.

      “It is, that you will do me and Mrs Brook the pleasure of coming over to our location this afternoon to dinner. It is our Gertie’s birthday. She is thirteen to-day. In a rash moment we promised her a treat or surprise of some sort, but really the only surprise I can think of in such an out-of-the-way place is to have a dinner-party in her honour. Will you come?”

      The brothers at once agreed to do so, remarking, however, that they must complete the sowing of their carrot-seed before dinner if possible.

      “What did you say you were sowing?” asked Brook, with a peculiar smile.

      “Carrot-seed,” answered Robert Skyd.

      “If your carrot-seed is sown there,” said George Dally, pointing with a broad grin to the trench, “it’s very likely to come up in England about the time it does here,—by sendin’ its roots right through the world!”

      “How? what do you mean?”

      “The truth is, my dear sir,” said Brook good-humouredly, “that you’ve made a slight mistake in this matter. Carrot-seed is usually sown in trenches less than an inch deep. You’d better leave off work just now and come over to my place at once. I’ll give you some useful hints as we walk along.”

      The knights of the quill laughed at their mistake, and at once threw down their implements of husbandry. But on going over their farm, Brook found it necessary to correct a few more mistakes, for he discovered that the active brothers had already planted a large quantity of Indian corn, or “mealies,” entire, without knocking it off the cobs, and, in another spot of ground, a lot of young onions were planted with the roots upwards!

      “You see, Miss Gertie,” said John Skyd, when commenting modestly on these mistakes at dinnertime, “my brothers and I have all our lives had more to do with the planting of ‘houses’ and the growth of commercial enterprise than with agricultural products, but we are sanguine that, with experience and perseverance, we shall overcome all our difficulties. Have you found many difficulties to overcome!”

      Gertie was not sure; she thought she had found a few, but none worth mentioning. Being somewhat put out by the question, she picked up a pebble—for the dinner was a species of picnic, served on the turf in front of Mr Brook’s tent—and examined it with almost geological care.

      “My daughter does not like to admit the existence of difficulties,” said Mrs Brook, coming to the rescue, “and to say truth is seldom overcome by anything.”

      “Oh, ma, how can you?” said Gertie, blushing deeply.

      “That’s not true,” cried Mr Brook; “excuse me, my dear, for so flat a contradiction, but I have seen Gertie frequently overcome by things,—by Junkie’s obstinacy for instance, which I verily believe to be an insurmountable difficulty, and I’ve seen her thoroughly overcome, night after night, by sleep.—Isn’t that true, lass?”

      “I suppose it is, father, since you say so, but of course I cannot tell.”

      “Sleep!” continued Brook, with a laugh, “why, would you believe it, Mr Skyd, I went into what we call the nursery-tent one morning last week, to try to stop the howling of my little boy, and I found him lying with his open mouth close to Gertie’s cheek, pouring the flood of his wrath straight into her ear, and she sound asleep all the time! My nurse, Mrs Scholtz, told me she had been as sound as that all night, despite several heavy squalls, and notwithstanding a chorus of hyenas and jackals outside that might almost have awakened the dead.—By the way, that reminds me: just as I was talking with nurse that morning we heard a most unearthly shriek at some distance off. It was not the least like the cry of any wild animal I have yet heard, and for the first time since our arrival the idea of Kafirs flashed into my mind. Did any of you gentlemen happen to hear it?”

      The brothers looked at each other, and at their friend Dobson, and then unitedly turned their eyes on George Dally, who—performing the combined duties of cook and waiter, at a fire on the ground, not fifteen feet to leeward of the dinner-party—could hear every word of the conversation.

      “Why, yes,” said John Skyd, “we did hear it, and so did your man Dally. We had thought—”

      “The truth is, sir,” said George, advancing with a miniature pitchfork or “tormentor” in his hand; “pardon my interrupting you, sir,—I did hear the screech, but as I couldn’t say exactly for certain, you know, that it was a Kafir, not havin’ seen one, I thought it best not to alarm you, sir, an’ so said nothing about it.”

      “You looked as if you had seen one,” observed Frank Dobson, drawing down the corners of his mouth with his peculiar smile.

      “Did I, sir!” said George, with a simple look; “very likely I did, for I’m timersome by nature an’ easily frightened.”

      “You did not act with your wonted wisdom, George, in concealing this,” said Edwin Brook gravely.

      “I’m afraid I didn’t sir,” returned George meekly.

      “In future, be sure to let me know every symptom of danger you may discover, no matter how trifling,” said Brook.

      “Yes, sir.”

      “It was a very tremendous yell, wasn’t it, Dally?” asked John Skyd slily, as the waiter-cook was turning to resume his duties at the fire.

      “Wery, sir.”

      “And alarmed us all dreadfully, didn’t it?”

      “Oh! dreadfully, sir—’specially me; though I must in dooty say that you four gentleman was as bold as brass. It quite relieved me when I saw your tall figurs standin’ at the mouth o’ your cavern, an’ the muzzles o’ your four double-guns—that’s eight shots—with your glaring eyes an’ pale cheeks behind them!”

      “Ha!” exclaimed John Skyd, with a grim smile—“but after all it might only have been the shriek of a baboon.”

      “I think not, sir,” replied George, with a smile of intelligence.

      “Perhaps then it was the cry of a zebra or quagga,” returned John Skyd, СКАЧАТЬ