“Halloa,” cried Hicks, re-entering. “Don’t let that kid bother you, Arthur. Kids are a confounded nuisance unless they happen to belong to a fellow, and very often even then.”
But Jimmy was not to be detached from his new acquaintance, to whom he had taken an immense fancy, and just then, fortunately for his peace of mind, a move was made in favour of breakfast.
They talked of the war and its progress. Hicks declared his intention of holding on a bit for the present, and joining Jim Brathwaite—who, with his troop, had already left for the front—later, if things got worse. Laura had been in a terrible fright the last time when he had gone, he said; but now, since she saw that none of them had been hurt, she didn’t care—in fact, concluded Hicks, he rather believed she wanted to get rid of him, so he was determined to stay, just to spite her. Listening to the playful recrimination that followed, Claverton found himself thinking what a good thing it was to see two people happy like this, for there could be no doubt but that happy they were—thoroughly so—in their quiet and hitherto peaceful (for the tide of war had not yet rolled in so far as this) frontier home; though such may appear incredible to those who find their enjoyment of life in the whirl and feverishness of fashionable civilisation. And thinking it, he rejoiced greatly on his old chum’s account.
And the said “old chum” was considerably crestfallen at the announcement that he must take the road again. “Why, hang it all,” he grumbled; “you’ve hardly had time to look at us.”
“My dear fellow—duty—inexorable duty calls. But I shall assuredly knock you up again, soon.”
“Why, here’s baby!” exclaimed Laura, as an approaching squall resounded through the passage. “You will just be able to have a peep at her before you go,” and regardless of her lord’s impatient protest that “Claverton didn’t want to be bothered with a lot of kids,” she took a limp bundle of clothes from the arms of its bearer and uncovered a wee red and—shall it be confessed?—rather wet physiognomy for her guest’s inspection.
“H’m, I’m no judge of infants, Laura,” said Claverton, good-humouredly, “but I should say this one ought to fetch first prize at the next show. But now I must be off—good-bye.”
“Must you go? I’m so sorry,” said Laura. “I should like to get Lilian up here to stay for a bit, only ‘some one’ would be sure to forbid it as unsafe,” she added, archly.
“Well, good-bye, old fellow,” said Hicks. “My horses are out in the veldt, and will take hours to get in, or I’d go part of the way with you. Mind you look us up again as soon as ever you can.” He was going to add something about hoping “to see you both here before long”; but with his recent slip fresh in his mind, he refrained, fearing lest in some unaccountable manner he should put his foot in it again. “Good-bye—success to you. Mind you shoot lots of niggers and come back all jolly,” and with a hearty hand-shake the two men parted.
Claverton rode on, reaching Fort Beaufort, where he tarried a day to recruit his men, or rather to collect them, for they had already been recruited by his lieutenant, a young Englishman named Lumley; and it was high time he appeared on the scene, for the rascals had taken the opportunity of getting on the spree, indulging in much inebriate jollification preparatory to starting for the seat of war. They would be all right, though, once away from the canteens and under proper discipline—and under proper discipline he intended they should be. So promptly mustering them he marched them off without any farther delay, not even waiting a day in Alice, the divisional town of Victoria East, where a fresh batch was picked up. At the latter place, however, a despatch awaited him, ordering him, instead of going to King Williamstown, to proceed straight through to join the main column on the borders of Sandili’s location.