Traveling to and from the diamond fields in the days immediately following the first rush was not an unmixed joy. Express wagons drawn by eight horses or mules and running from Cape Town to Klipdrift once a week charged passengers sixty dollars a head, the journey across the plains taking about eight days. Travelers whose business was so urgent that they could not wait for the regular stage had to hire a team of their own at a much higher expense.
Kenneth did not mind the cost, if only he was able to make good time. The trip to the mines had been accomplished without mishap. Everything had gone as well as could be desired. He had been successful in securing valuable land options for the company, and at last the two precious stones were in his possession. That it was a big responsibility, he fully realized. The very knowledge that he had on his person gems worth over a million dollars, and this in a wild, uncivilized country where at any moment he might be followed, ambushed and killed, and no one the wiser, was not calculated to calm his nerves. But Kenneth Traynor had never known the meaning of the word fear. He was ready for any emergency and he went about unarmed, cool and unruffled. From his demeanor at least no one could guess that he ever gave a thought to the valuable consignment of which he was the guardian. Of course, it had been impossible to keep the thing secret. Everybody at the mines knew he had come out for the purpose of taking the big stones to America. Even his drivers knew, and so did François. The news was public property and was eagerly discussed over every camp fire as one of the sensations of the day. All this publicity did not tend to lessen the risk, and that was why he was so anxious to reach Cape Town without the least possible delay. He had timed his departure from the mines so as to just catch the steamer for England, and now, after all his trouble and careful calculation, the fool mule drivers had gone and lost the trail. It was most exasperating.
The wagon had come to a halt the night before under shelter of a fair-sized kopjie. The mules, tormented by the deadly tetse fly, stood whisking their tails and biting savagely at their hereditary enemy; the drivers, indifferent and stolid, sat on the ground smoking their pipes, while Kenneth, fuming at this unlooked for mishap which threatened an even more serious delay, strode up and down the veldt, swearing at the mules, the stolid drivers and everything else in sight.
François, who had left camp for assistance long before sunrise, had not yet returned. Unless help came soon they'd be held there another night. There was no use trying to proceed without a guide, for they might find themselves going round and round in a circle. There was nothing to do but wait until help came.
Sitting down on the stump of a tree near the fire, he tried to possess his soul in patience while one of the teamsters, who also officiated as cook, busied himself getting breakfast. It was now broad daylight; the weather clear and cold. As he sat there idly and smoked reflectively, his thoughts wandered homeward, four thousand miles across the seas. He wondered what Helen was doing, if little Dorothy was well, if everything was all right. Only now he realized what the word home meant to him, and a chill ran through him as he thought of all the things that could happen. Yet how foolish it was to worry. What could happen? Helen had her sister constantly with her, and she was well looked after by Mr. Parker and Wilbur Steell. It was absurd to have any anxiety on that score. Besides, if anything had gone wrong, they would certainly have called him. He had had several letters from Helen, all of them saying she and baby were well and waiting eagerly for his return. Yes, he would soon be home now. In another two days he would reach Cape Town. From there to Southampton was only a fortnight's sail, and in another week he would be in New York.
These and kindred thoughts of home ran through his mind as he sat before the camp fire and tranquilly smoked his pipe. The drivers were busying themselves cleaning the harness, the mules were docilely browsing, the air was filled by a fragrant odor of coffee. His memories went back to his boyhood days. He recalled what the old nurse had told him about a twin brother. How strange it would be if he ever turned up. Such things were possible, of course, but hardly probable. No, the chances were that he was dead. If he had lived, how different everything might have been. He would have inherited half their father's money. What had been enough to start one so well in life would only have been a meagre provision for two. Yet it might have been an advantage, forced him to still greater effort. He might have got even farther than he had—who knows?
At that moment his reflections were interrupted by the sound of voices in the distance. He heard some one running. One of the teamsters came up hurriedly and exclaimed breathlessly:
"He's found some one, sir; he's got two men with him. They're coming now."
Kenneth jumped up and, shading his eyes, looked out across the yellow waste of stones and gravel. About a mile away he saw François, accompanied by two strangers, who looked like miners. They were tattered and miserable looking, as if down on their luck. One of them was limping as if lame; the other, much taller, although ragged and forlorn, had a soldierly bearing and the appearance of a gentleman. The valet, who had been walking faster than his companions, came up at that instant.
"Who have you got there?" demanded Kenneth.