“Here we are at last,” said Payne, as they entered a narrow gorge between two high hills, and emerging upon a sort of basin-like hollow, beheld a substantial-looking farmhouse. In front, a sweep of smooth sward sloping down to the dam, in whose still surface a cluster of willows lay mirrored, as they drooped their boughs to the water’s edge; around this a few strips of enclosed and cultivated land, and a fruit-garden bordered by high quince hedges. On either side of the hollow, just far enough apart for the place not to be “shut in,” rose green lofty heights, with here and there a clump of dark bush in their rifts and chasms; and two little streams of clear water met in the valley and dashed along past the homestead, sparkling as they joined their forces in a leaping, rushing rivulet—an invaluable boon in that land of drought. But it was not until one reached the house, which was situated on a slight eminence in the hollow, that the full charm of the situation became appreciable. Then, standing on the stoep, which ran round two sides of the building, on the one hand the Kei hills bounded the limit of vision; while on the other, focussed, as through a glass, between the double range of green heights narrowing as they stretched further and further away, a panorama of rolling bush country, with here and there a purple ridge rising in the sunny air, found its limit on the distant horizon. The house itself was a good specimen of the old-fashioned frontier abode, with its thatched roof and canvas ceilings. It had been added to by the present owner, and was fairly roomy and comfortable. A passage intersected it, on either side of which, a door opened into a sitting-room and dining-room respectively, while another door from the latter communicated with the continuation of the stoep, which ran round that side of the building. Such was Payne’s home—Fountain’s Gap—so called from the two streams which met and flowed through the beautiful hollow, at either end of which one looked out upon the country beyond as through a gap.
“So this is your crib,” remarked our new acquaintance, glancing critically around, as if to take in all the capabilities of the situation. “It strikes me as an uncommonly good one. Why, that stream alone ought to be a fortune to you.”
“Yes; it’s a good all-round place,” assented Payne, perceptibly gratified. “You see, I’ve got a good deal of land under cultivation here round the dam. I’m going to break up any amount more, and go in strong for agriculture, as soon as this confounded scare, or war, whichever it’s to be (and I don’t care which), is over. It’s of no use making a lot of improvements, only to be ravaged by these black devils—is it?”
“Not in the least.”
They were now skirting the stream, which here flowed past the dam, communicating with it by a runnel cut with spades.
“Let’s dismount here,” said Payne, “unless you’re tired, and would rather go in. You’re not? Well then, look. Here’s where I was thinking I might run up a mill one of these days; with this water power one might do anything. Higher up it’s even better. Wait, we’ll get rid of our horses and stroll along a bit,” and a stentorian call brought a young Kafir running down from the out-buildings, as also three or four rough, fierce-looking dogs in open-mouthed clamour. The latter were soon pacified, and leaped around their master in boisterous glee, wagging their tails and whining joyously as he patted them, or bestowed a playful punch upon some shaggy hide, while a precautionary sniff having satisfied them as to the stranger’s respectability, they forthwith took him into their confidence in a less mirthful and more dignified manner.
“Here, Booi,” went on Payne. “Take the horses up to the stable, and off-saddle them. Is the missis in?”
“Don’t know, Baas,” answered the Kafir, grinning.
“Don’t you? When did one of you fellows ever know anything? Now hook it,” and as the boy led away their steeds, the two strolled on, Payne pointing out the capabilities of his water advantages, and enlarging on his schemes of improvement; for this farm of his was his hobby, and in his heart of hearts he hoped some day to make it a model in the way of progress, as showing what might be done even there by a fellow with a little “go” in him.
They crossed the stream by a plank bridge, and now stood looking down it, scarcely, a hundred yards from the house, Payne still expatiating.