“Evenin’, Baas Payne!” said Sam, jumping to his feet, for he had been squatting, tailor-fashion, while Lilian had been talking to him. “Sam, he come from Inkos. Inkos he say, Sam stay here till he come. Sam do all he told. Dat what Inkos say.”
“You’ve got fat, Sam, since we saw you last. Campaigning seems to agree with you,” said Payne.
The boy grinned, and, seeing that they had done with him, he returned to his work.
“I rather think I shall go to the front for a spell myself when Claverton comes back,” remarked Payne, as they went in.
“Oh, do you?” put in his wife, of whose presence he was unaware. “And since when have you come to that conclusion, Mr George?”
He started. “Hallo! I didn’t know you there. But, seriously, it wouldn’t do a fellow any harm. Needn’t stay away long, you know. Shoot a few niggers and come back again.”
“Yes, pa,” cried Harry, delightedly. “Do go and shoot the Kafirs, and you’ll be able to tell us such lots of stunning stories.”
“Oh, ah! Anything else in a small way, Master Harry?” said his father, ironically.
The urchin laughed.
“I want an assegai,” he replied. “A real Kafir assegai; like the one Johnny Timms has got. It’s a beauty. He throws it at the fowls in the garden.”