“There is unrest, and it wants careful handling. Still you haven’t got to believe everything you hear. I’ve been doing a round since I came, trying to get at the general feeling. I was at Tongwana’s kraal this morning and the old chap was profusely civil, so were all his people: in fact it was on my way back from there that I—er—first met your daughter.”
“Oh, Tongwana? Yes, he’s all right. By the way, I was forgetting. If you’ll excuse me for a minute I’ll send some boys down to collect your saddle and bridle.”
“Thanks. I daresay you could lend me some sort of a mount to get home on, could you?”
“Oh, you shan’t walk,” said Thornhill, drily, over his shoulder.
He soon returned, and the two sat chatting over things in general and the neighbourhood in particular; as to which latter Elvesdon was loud in his appreciation. It was delightful country, he declared, and this farm especially was charmingly situated. The other smiled.
“Well, ride over whenever you feel inclined. We shall always be delighted to see you,” the speaker had grown grave, and his hearer knew what he was thinking about. “I don’t know if you’re very hard-worked. I know that outlying Civil servants are not as a rule—your predecessor certainly wasn’t. So whenever you don’t know what else to do with yourself, why this isn’t an overpoweringly long ride. We might get up a day in the kloofs when the close time is over.”
Elvesdon jumped at this, and then Edala reappeared, stating two indisputable facts—that it was cooler, and, incidentally, tea-time. At last, with many a qualm of reluctance, he got up and declared it was time to go.
“Must you?” said the girl, with a quick lift of the eyes which he thought infinitely captivating.
“I’m afraid so, Miss Thornhill, though I do it with reluctance. Stern duty calls, you see. There’s no moon, and I don’t know this part of the country at all yet. I should get hopelessly entangled for the night in some most impenetrable part of the kloofs, and I have to hold Court early to-morrow; for there happens to be rather a lot to get through.”
“Edala, dear,” said Thornhill, “just sing out to them at the back to put Mr Elvesdon’s saddle on—the horse I told them.”