With this sentiment Greenoak agreed, but—was that the speaker’s only object? Well, it would come out in time.
“For all that he’s a thorough sportsman, and as nice a young fellow as ever lived,” he said.
But Hazel did not take this opening. She plunged into other topics as they resumed their way; in none of which did the absent and venatorial Dick by any chance come in.
They passed the vee-kraal, where a wheezy and decrepit cur came forth and huskily vociferated at them—Hesketh would not allow any of his “hands” to keep an able-bodied canine on the place—and the two wives of the absent herd, profusely anointed with red clay, came out to greet them and requisition tobacco. Greenoak gave them some, as they knew he would.
“I suppose you can manage Kafirs thoroughly?” said Hazel as they walked on.
“Well, I’ve had to do it all my life.”
“Of course. What an idiotic question! Fancy my asking it you. But I don’t know whether I like them or not. I don’t see much of them.”
“No, I suppose there aren’t many round your father’s place. Mostly Hottentots?”
“Yes. But I don’t like them at all. By the way, Mr Greenoak, do you think we are going to have a Kafir war? The newspapers all seem to say we are. What is your opinion?”
“Newspapers must say something. I can’t form any opinion—as yet. I may be going up to the Transkei soon, and then I’ll be in a better position to do so.”