I put the letter into my pocket, flung on a mackintosh and dived outside again. The rain was still coming down in a steady pour, and the cloud of vapour rising from the horse’s heaving flanks steamed up redly against the firelight. Falkner was in high spirits. A reebok was tied behind his saddle and Jan Boom was carrying the carcase of a klipspringer, and a few unconsidered trifles in the way of partridges.
“You haven’t been out for nothing?” I said, glancing at the spoil.
“Rather not. I’ve had a ripping day of it, but—trot out the grog, old man. Phew! it’s cold. For the last hour I’ve hardly been able to feel my feet in the stirrups.”
“Likely. Here, you’d better tumble into the waggon and get into dry togs. Then we’ll have scoff. By the way, the post has come.”
“Post? See here. Who are you getting at, Glanton? Post!”
“Not at anybody. Here’s a letter, from your aunt I believe.”
“By Jove! I thought you were humbugging. Oh well, that’ll keep—till after scoff at any rate, and I’m starving.”
I had made up my mind to say nothing to him of Aïda Sewin’s letter unless his own communication should contain some reference to it. Soon he was in dry clothes, and the klipspringer was sizzling on the fire, which the boys had managed to shelter ingeniously with the aid of some stones and a bit of old sail. Then, in a trice, the grill being ready, we fell to with a will, seated on the edge of the kartel, our metal plates in our laps, and the rain splashing down upon the waggon tent, while we were warm and dry, if somewhat cramped, within.
“This is jolly and snug, and no mistake,” pronounced Falkner, “and grilled klipspringer makes right radiant scoff. Here, put the bottle across—it’s on your side. And I say, Glanton, I came across a devilish rum thing to-day—a devilish nasty thing. It turned me quite sick, ’pon my word it did. By the way, what were you blazing at soon after we parted? I heard a couple of shots.”
“Oh, it was another klipspringer. But a mere snap, not a fair chance,” I answered, not intending to let him into my secret experience. “What was it you came across?” I went on, feeling rather curious, for he had turned quite serious, as though impressed by some very unpleasant recollection.